The Return of a Sexy Animagus
by Emilie D
Summary: If you love Sirius, DO NOT READ! If you love Snape, this is the right place, though you won't see him at first. You'll see Sirius, tho. Post-DH, pre-Epilogue. It's a ridiculous tale. But Snape finally gets his due, despite the title.
1. It's a Miracle

It's A Miracle!

"Jame-Harry! I made it back at last!" barked a filthy Sirius Black, looking delighted to find his godson walking along the road outside Hogsmeade.

"SIRIUS! I thought… Lupin said… I thought you were dead!" stammered Harry, offering his hand to the older wizard.

"Harry, give me a hug," exclaimed Sirius. "I'm your godfather, practically your dad. How long has it been? It was terrible crawling out of that magical kennel that Veil thing covers. They were like the sewers way under King's Cross Station. Thank Merlin for rats or I'd have starved."

Harry gulped, having noticed that his beloved godfather's breath was amazingly foul. He didn't want to offend him, however.

"Well, it's been five years since Voldemort's been gone," he said.

"No, really?" asked Sirius. "Am I still wanted for murder?"

"Uh-uh. The Ministry knows about Wormtail and, I guess you don't know Wormtail's dead. Um, Remus too, and Tonks."

"Don't worry, be happy, Harry! Let your old godfather buy you a drink at the Three Broomsticks. Hey, why is your hair so long?"

They turned and walked along the shady road, heading for Hogsmeade. Harry was dazed, amazed at his incredible good fortune. Sirius, his beloved godfather, was returned as if from the dead.

"Ah, it's a good old life, isn't it, Harry?" asked Sirius expansively. "You, me, no Voldemort. We'll have a great time. Hey d' you still have the Marauders Map? We can have some laughs with that."

He ushered Harry into the Three Broomsticks with a flourish, waving to Madam Rosmerta.

"What'll you have, Harry?"

"Butterbeer," replied his confused godson.

"Oh, c'mon, have a firewhiskey," said the giddy Animagus, as he pinched Madam Rosmerta's bum.

Harry cringed slightly at the sight of the witch's frown.

"What's wrong, Rozzie? Aren't I your favorite any more?" smirked Sirius.

"You smell like you rolled in dog doo," she sniffed. "Those drinks'll be right up."

She hustled away and when she returned, Sirius turned to Harry with a winning smile.

"Can you lend me a few Galleons? I didn't have time to get to Gringotts before I came looking for you."

Harry sighed and paid the sour looking Rosmerta. Suddenly Sirius wasn't as much fun as he'd been before the Ministry episode. He took a stiff pull on his drink.

"Um, we thought you were dead. I inherited everything you left behind," he said, feeling guilty. "You don't actually own anything any more. Are you really alive?"

"Of course I am!" Sirius replied indignantly. "Are you going to give it all back?"

"Sure." Harry shrugged, but suddenly brightened. "You can have your house back. I hate the place."

"Me too." Sirius brightened too. "Hey! Has Kreacher died?"

"NO!" exclaimed Harry. "You can't have _him_ back. I love the little guy. You were a jerk to him."

Sirius's bloodshot gray eyes bulged. "Is it April Fools Day? You're taking the mickey, aren't you?"

Harry sneered slightly and said, "You were a right git to be so vicious to him. He'll want to stay with me."

"Consider him ten years worth of birthday presents, then," said Sirius cheerfully. "Getting rid of him is a treat for me."

Harry stared in amazement, wondering if he could be dreaming. After so many years, to have his beloved godfather return, he felt he must be the luckiest bloke alive.

"I can't wait to tell Ron and Hermione about you," said Harry.

"Great! Now that I'm back, we can play pranks on bloody Snivellus for fun. We have the Map, it'll be great!" exclaimed the ragged Animagus.

"Erm… Professor Snape was killed," said Harry, a shadow appearing in his green eyes. "He was amazing, you know. I wish I'd known before…"

Sirius stared in horror, not able to believe what he was hearing.

"SNIVELLUS? ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE SAME GREASY LOSER?"

"Don't speak of him that way," said Harry softly. "He loved my mum and they were best friends when they were kids. He's the bravest man I've ever known."

The young man watched his ragged godfather try to grasp that most remarkable statement, pausing to scratch behind one ear rather frantically.

"Gah! Bloody fleas!" he rasped. "Harry, your dad would puke if he heard you say that. You can't believe that rubbish!"

Anger flared suddenly in Harry and he snapped, "Shut it, Sirius. There's a lot you don't know."

Sirius tossed back the rest of his drink, suddenly chewed fiercely on his left shoulder and then said, "Let's go home, Harry. I think I need a bath."

Harry sighed, wondering how this was going to work out.

* * *

"Ginny, I'm home and I have an amazing surprise," called Harry weakly. "It's Sirius! He's alive!

He'd been a bit more enthusiastic before Sirius had paused to urinate on the big tree outside number Twelve Grimmauld Place. But the house was actually his, and Ginny would be very pleased to find someplace less creepy to live.

"Master is home!" exclaimed Kreacher, bounding into the hallway with a beaming smile on his wrinkled face.

"Merlin's crumpled bollocks, I can't believe the beast is still alive!" exclaimed Sirius, his mouth taking on a definite pout. "Oi, Kreacher, run Master a bath and have a rare steak ready when I'm finished cleaning myself up."

"You is not Kreacher's Master! Kreacher is belonging to Master Harry," said the horrified elf. "Master Harry, please let Kreacher serve you and Mrs. Harry."

"_Mrs. Harry?_" asked Sirius, easily distracted. "Good Lord, boy, did you actually commit matrimony while I was away? Women take all the fun out of things. Who managed to get her hooks into my godson?"

"That would be me," Ginny Weasley-Potter said icily, having arrived in time to hear his last words.

"LILY, YOU'RE ALIVE!" shouted Sirius, his face transformed with hope. "DID JAMES MAKE IT TOO, SOMEHOW?"

"Erm, Sirius, you remember Ginny Weasley, don't you?" asked Harry, feeling very awkward.

Reality finally penetrated the brain of the Animagus and his face took on its normal, slightly sullen expression.

"Sorry, I should have known. You have a bit of an Oedipal thing going, don't you, young Harry? You two are the spitting image of… Well, never mind," he finished hastily.

Harry was watching Kreacher cringe into the corner and compassion filled his heart for the loyal elf.

"Kreacher, will you please run a bath for Sirius?" he asked. "Since he's really alive, he can have the house back, but I want you to stay with Ginny and me, wherever we go. I don't believe we can manage without you."

Kreacher bowed, his face glowing with joy. "Kreacher is happy to do as Master asks, even to run a bath for the dog-man."

"Why you…" snarled Sirius, taking a swing at the elf and missing, instead falling over the troll leg umbrella stand and sprawling on the ancient carpet.

Harry and Ginny looked into each other's eyes, dismay growing by the minute. What should have been the happiest of occasions was beginning to seem rather uncomfortable.

"This place has changed, Harry. The rug doesn't smell like dirt and unwashed feet any more."

"Well, we've cleaned things up, haven't we?" said Ginny irritably. "You've been gone for years, Sirius, and when we got married two years ago, we didn't want to live in a sty. It's still rather creepy and ghastly, you're welcome to take it back, but we tried to make it livable. Mum helped."

Sirius shook his head as if trying to remember some trivial detail. "Ah, yes, dear Molly, thoughtful of her. Does she visit you much here?"

"She comes more often now that I'm expecting," said Ginny, a slight waspish note becoming audible in her voice.

"EXPECTING? MERLIN'S REEKING TOENAILS, YOU'RE EXACTLY LIKE THAT OTHER ONE," howled Sirius.

"Master, the dog-man's bath is run. Must Kreacher scrub him?" asked Kreacher humbly.

"No! He can scrub himself," said Harry, looking sternly at Sirius. "Go take your bath Sirius and we'll have supper after that. Then we'll discuss what will happen next."

"Which bathroom, you disloyal rodent?" asked Sirius.

"Old Mistress's bath, where you always wallowed before," said Kreacher, his eyes bulging with fervent spite.

"Kreacher, come to the kitchen with me," said Ginny gently. Master Harry must be hungry, so we'll find something good for him to eat."

The house elf smiled at her trustingly, years of kindness having mellowed him.

"Harry, supper will be in an hour. Perhaps you'd like a shower?" she asked.

"Good idea," he replied. Sirius, we'll meet for supper in an hour. Come to the kitchen."

Harry fled to the suite he and Ginny had called their own since they got married. He needed this time to collect his wits and figure out what to do with his resurrected godfather. Wait, he thought. Ron and Hermione could help. With Hermione's powerful brain, she could easily sort out the whole thing, and perhaps tell him why the return of Sirius was filling him with such turmoil.

* * *

"SIRIUS!" cried Hermione, tears of joy filling her eyes as she flung herself into the wizard's arms. "I can't believe you're alive. This is just wonderful!"

Sirius patted her back gingerly and turned to greet Ron.

"All grown up, mate?" he asked the red-haired young man. "What are you up to, Ron?"

"I'm an Auror," said Ron proudly. "It's a good thing we all know you're innocent, or I'd be taking you in to the Ministry right now."

He grinned cheerfully, failing to notice the slight snarl on Sirius's face.

"Supper's ready," called Ginny, a slightly anxious note in her voice.

They all trooped into the clean, cheerful old kitchen, where Sirius seated himself at the head of the table and sat back, beaming at them all.

"Sit down, everyone!" he exclaimed. "It's good to be back in the old Pit of Despair, if I do say so. What's for supper, Ginny?"

"We're having vegetarian lasagna, with garlic bread and a spinach salad," she said. "Harry, will you pass around the pumpkin juice?"

"Pumpkin juice? For the love of Merlin, don't you at least have elf made wine?" asked Sirius, looking horrified.

"Well, Ginny's pregnant and can't drink, so we usually keep her company with pumpkin juice," explained Harry. "But if you'd like, I think all that old wine is still down in the cellars. We're not really big drinkers, Sirius."

"I'll be right back," Sirius announced, shoving his chair back so hard it thunked on the floor behind him as he stalked toward the cellar door.

"Wow, Harry, I can't believe it. It's a miracle that he made it back," said Ron.

"Yeah, it 's amazing, isn't it?" replied Harry, carefully not looking toward his wife. "But I dunno, Ron… I noticed he's really mean to poor Kreacher. I told Sirius I'm giving him back the house. I have enough money to get us a place of our own, But I'm taking Kreacher along, because he hates Sirius and he likes Gin and me."

"Good news, kiddos," caroled Sirius, reappearing." There's still a cellar full of Chateau Beauxbaton Cabernet down there. The dear old stuff packs quite a punch and should even go well with bloody vegetables. Can't you do _meat_, Ginny?"

Her narrowed eyes would have stopped Harry dead in his tracks, but she managed to control herself and said, "Humans eat too much protein and it's killing the planet. We do meat three or four days a week. Tomorrow we're doing a delicious legume stew and Friday we'll have chicken."

Hermione had been watching them like a spectator at a Muggle tennis match, and the look of utter revulsion on Sirius's face at the mere mention of legumes brought an ironic smile to her face.

"So, Sirius, we haven't seen you since you fell through the Veil in the Ministry. Aren't you curious about what's been happening all this time?" she asked.

"I think I've got the picture," he replied. "Voldy's dead and Harry's a hero, just like his godfather, of course. You've all gotten depressingly staid looking. Are you a librarian now, Hermione?"

"I work at the Ministry," she told him. "Did Harry tell you about Remus and Tonks?"

"They didn't make it," he said, a slight frown wrinkling his forehead.

"But didn't he tell you about Teddy?" she asked. "They got married! They had a baby before that last battle. Harry's a godfather!"

"Married?" asked Sirius, a look of shock in his eyes. "Merlin's flatulence! It's like a bloody viral infection going through you all. _You_ aren't married, are you?"

"Ron and I got married last year," said Hermione, flashing her wedding ring in his direction.

Sirius offered a compassionate glance at Ron, popped the cork out of his wine bottle and waved it in the air.

"Anyone?" he asked, before he Summoned a glass and filled it.

Ginny and Harry put the food on the table and began passing it around.

"It smells heavenly, Ginny," said Hermione. "I'd love the recipe."

Ginny flashed her a grateful smile and they all fell to eating.

"We need to tell everyone that Sirius is back and have a huge party," said Ron enthusiastically. "It'll be great, like an Order of the Phoenix reunion!"

"We can have it here!" said Sirius, tossing back his wine and laughing loudly.

"Great," Harry said dully. "But seriously, Sirius, what do you plan to do now that you're back? You have the rest of your life ahead of you now."


	2. At the Ministry

At the Ministry

"Uh… Do? What am I going to _do_?" asked Sirius. "Well, we're going to have fun, of course."

"I meant for a job," said Harry. "I s'pose you should go to the Ministry and let them know you're back. Just so they can clear your record. But then, you can go wherever you want. You're free, for the first time in your life. Isn't it amazing?"

"First, I need a new wand. My old one disappeared somehow when I was down the hole."

"You'll be cleared of the old charges once you report to the Ministry and then you can buy a new wand," said Hermione firmly.

"I hate those bleeding bureaucrats," snapped Sirius, eyeing his forkful of lasagna with distaste.

"But we need to transfer your house and your Gringotts account back to you and I doubt we can do that until the Ministry knows you're alive," said Harry.

"Ah, the money. My fortune! Is there any left?"

"Sure. Ginny and I both have jobs and I still have the money my mum and dad left. We left your Gringotts vault alone," Harry told him.

"So you didn't spend it? Isn't my money good enough for you?" asked Sirius, belching profoundly and filling his glass again. "And all you want is that filthy old lackey of my mother's?"

"And to have you back!" exclaimed Harry, staring reproachfully at him. "Sirius, you should know money doesn't matter. It's family that matters, and you're family. You were my dad and mum's best friend. That's all I care about."

"Ah, you're a good boy, Harry," said Sirius, his glare softening. "Will you come with me to report in to the Ministry tomorrow? I really need to get a new wand. Are my clothes still here?"

"We cleaned up your bedroom, but everything of yours is still in it. There are so many other rooms that Harry and I didn't want to disturb yours. I think our bedroom used to be your brother's," explained Ginny.

"Hah! Are you sure _he_ won't come back from the dead?" asked the Animagus, a mellow glow beginning to animate him. "Never mind… I'm sure the little wiener would've shown up the minute he thought I was dead, looking to scoop the jackpot."

The four young people all looked pained following that statement, causing Sirius to stare in confusion.

"What did I say now?" he asked.

After a long silence, Hermione said, "Your brother Regulus died trying to defeat Voldemort."

Eyes bulging, he digested this remarkable fact. "Well, I'll be a hippogriff's blistered buttock! So neither one of us was any better than the other. I wish my dear old mum could have known about little Reggy's pitiful goodness. Anyway, is my good brown suit still upstairs?"

"I couldn't say," said Ginny. "You should probably go on up after we finish eating and see what you can wear tomorrow."

"Yeah, good idea. I leave at eight o'clock for work, Sirius. You can come along with me then," Harry said.

"Groovy!" exclaimed Sirius, feeling more cheerful. Then if you wouldn't mind signing things over to me at Gringott's… I have no problem with you and the little woman staying here until you find a place of your own, Ja – Harry."

"That's good of you," said Ginny softly. "While you and Harry are taking care of business tomorrow, Kreacher and I will start looking for a new place to live."

"I'll head on up and reacquaint myself with the old homestead, then," said Sirius, rising from the table.

"Don't bother helping to clean up,' Ginny murmured sweetly.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" exclaimed Sirius. "I'm a bit fagged, my dear young people, so I'll head off to bed. What time is breakfast?"

Ginny's cheeks were flushing a rich red as she said, "Half past seven."

"Excellent!"

Sirius picked up the bottle of wine and, brandishing it like a trophy, swayed toward the stairs. Four people sat around the table, staring at each other in various levels of surprise and irritation.

"I didn't remember Sirius as being so, erm, high maintenance," Harry said.

"I'll have a new place for us by the end of tomorrow," said Ginny. "Mum will help me find a place. We don't own that much here, so I hope I can have it all moved before you and Sirius get back!"

"Uh, won't Sirius be a bit hurt if you leave here so quickly?" asked Ron. "I remember he didn't do so well when he stayed here alone before. When we were up at Hogwarts, remember? I think he even drank a bit!"

"Ron, are you suggesting Harry and Ginny should stay here and babysit Sirius?" asked Hermione, smiling fondly at her husband. "He's a grown wizard."

"Yeah, that's right. Besides, he didn't do well back then because he had to hide. Now he'll be free, so he can come and go as he pleases. He'll find a job he likes and have some fun. He'll be fine," Harry told them.

"Of course he will," Hermione said stoutly. "Now, since the coast is clear, let's call Kreacher so you can tell him to get ready to move."

* * *

Harry and Sirius entered the Minister of Magic's office bright and early the next morning, each looking a bit apprehensive. Harry had contacted numerous officials and tried to smooth the way as much as possible. He gulped as they crossed the threshold.

"We're here to see Minister Shacklebolt," he told the lovely blonde secretary.

"And who is your companion, Mr. Potter?" she asked fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Mr. Sirius Black," said Harry rather nervously.

"The Minister will see you shortly. Would you like some tea while you wait?" she asked, gazing soulfully into his eyes.

"Uh, no thanks," he stammered, blushing and heading for the chairs.

"I'd love some, and a plate of chicken legs too," said Sirius, smiling seductively at the young witch. "We had bloody porridge for breakfast."

She squirmed, her face turning bright pink. "I'll see if we have any, ah, chicken legs, and be right back."

Harry watched the young secretary glide swiftly through a door behind her desk. She did not return.

The polished wooden doors across the room opened slowly and a vision of sartorial splendor moved gracefully through them.

"Kingsley! Old mate!' exclaimed Sirius, lunging forward to hug the handsome wizard.

A faint look of distaste crossed the Minister of Magic's face as he smoothly released himself from the grip of the Animagus.

"Good old Sirius," he said warmly. "It's a miracle that you made it back. Come into my office and sit down. Harry, it's good to see you."

"You've certainly risen in the world, Old Kingsley," said Sirius. "Back in the day we were all just warriors together, fighting for the Order, and now you're the Big Cheese."

One elegant eyebrow rose in response to that remarkable statement, but the Minister merely gestured them into chairs.

"How may I help you?" he asked. "I have, of course, got the paperwork ready. All you need to do is sign a few documents here and you'll be declared officially alive.

"May I buy a wand then?" asked Sirius eagerly.

"Of course. You'll need to go to Gringott's first and re-establish your account there, but you'll be free to do whatever you want."

Sirius eagerly began signing documents, panting slightly with happiness. Finally he was finished.

"Now, if you'll just give me you address, you can go on about your business," said Kingsley silkily.

"No prob, mate. I'll be kenneling myself at rotten old Number Twelve," said Sirius with a blithe smile. "Come by for a drink any time and we'll rehash our memories of the good old days!"

"I'll look forward to it," replied the Minister, smiling brilliantly. "Have a fine day, Sirius. Good day, Harry."

He ushered his visitors back to the outer office, which was empty, although Harry had heard the sound of a door being hastily closed.

"Bloody girl never brought my chicken legs," muttered Sirius, scratching behind his right ear distractedly as he sniffed the air.

"Come on, Sirius," Harry said hastily, tugging the whinging wizard toward the door. "We'll get you back in at Gringott's and then I should go back to work."

"What? WORK? Who cares about work? It's my first day back from the dead! You can't leave me just yet, mate. I need you to tell me everything that's happened since I went down the Veil."

At the sight of the Amimagus's limpid, pleading gaze, Harry softened and said, "Well, wait here a minute. I'll send a message upstairs and tell them I'll be in tomorrow."

Harry went to borrow a quill and parchment from the receptionist. He wrote his note, shaped it into a paper plane and sent it away. He turned and discovered several outraged Ministry officials racing toward Sirius, who was placidly lapping water from the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Their wands were drawn.

"Hey! It's okay! He's with me!" Harry screamed frantically.

Fortunately no spell had been cast on the scraggly-looking Animagus in his circa 1971 brown velvet jacket. He looked up, startled, with water dripping from his bearded jowls.

"Something wrong?" he asked, cocking his head to one side with an endearing grin.

"Nothing," Harry gasped hastily. "Come on Sirius, let's go walkies!"


	3. Food For Thought

Food For Thought

By the time they arrived at Grimmauld Place that evening, Harry felt as old as Dumbledore had been. It had been an exhausting day. First they had the difficult task of proving to the goblins that Sirius Black was actually alive and actually Sirius. A series of questions, careful examination of the Ministry documents and finally, a needle stuck deeply into his hand to show proof of flowing blood, all annoyed Sirius deeply. But it was finally done and then, with a large pouch of Galleons in his pocket, he followed Harry to the new wand shop. He examined every wand in the place, flinging hexes all around, before choosing one that was fifteen inches and rigid, dogwood with a Veela-hair core.

"My old one wasn't this good," said Sirius gleefully. He shot random passersby with scarlet and gold sparks, upsetting one elderly witch who chased him down Diagon Alley, swinging her heavy red purse at his head.

After they lost the old lady, they headed for a pub, where Sirius treated Harry to lunch and countless drinks, resulting in great hilarity and rampant bouts of nostalgia.

"I can't believe poor old Remus didn't make it," said Sirius. "There's no one who remembers James, no one but me. It's just wrong, Harry."

"Would you like to meet Teddy Lupin? He's the greatest kid, and I'm his godfather. He lives with Tonks's mum. I see him every week."

"Huh, Andromeda…" Sirius mused. "She was the least horrible of my bloody cousins. She married a Muggleborn, old Ted Tonks."

"Well, Ted Tonks was killed in the war too, but your cousin's alive and little Teddy's fantastic," Harry said bracingly. "We could go on Sunday!"

"Sure. Great," said Sirius rather vaguely. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time James and I tried to drown Snivellus in the lake? It was during sixth year…"

"Sirius, you need to understand," said Harry, having mentally prepared for this moment. "I owe Professor Snape everything. He was a truly brilliant wizard, a hero, and I can't stand to hear you talk about him like this."

"That GIT?" sneered Sirius. "Have you forgotten how he treated you? Bullying, vindictive, greasy slimeball that he was, remember when he came to my house and tried to order me out of my own kitchen? If you hadn't stopped me, he'd have regretted starting _that_ duel!"

His voice was rising, and people in all corners of the pub were turning toward them, staring avidly.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said hastily, standing up.

Sirius threw a small pile of Galleons on the table and shouted to the barkeep, "That's for lunch, and a round for the house, on me!"

The fickle patrons roared their approval, so Sirius left with his chest puffed out, rather like old Fudge, Harry thought. It was only about two o'clock, hours before they could go home to Ginny. He wondered how the house hunting was going.

"Hey!" shouted Sirius. "Oi, Dung! Harry, it's old Dung! I must buy him a drink!"

The baggy eyed old wizard tottering along ahead of them, carrying a small satchel, glanced nervously behind him. With an explosive pop he Apparated away.

"What's got into him?" growled Sirius.

'Um, well, I'm an Auror and he's probably engaged in criminal activity. It's a long time since he was in the Order, you know."

"I suppose so," was the sullen response. "But he's an old pal. I still want to buy him a drink."

"After we thought you were dead, he robbed your house."

"Why, that bloody old gasbag!" snarled Sirius, his genial smile evaporating instantly. "Did he get anything good?"

"Well, yeah. One of Voldemort's Horcruxes was that creepy locket we found when we cleaned the drawing room. We went through hell to find and destroy it," Harry told him.

"You destroyed it? Well, did you get everything else back too?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry wondered if Sirius had always missed the point in such a spectacular way. But he discovered that his godfather was already distracted again.

"Look, Harry! A street vendor selling kebab! Ahhh… smell the meat…" Sirius moaned, following his twitching nose toward the exquisite scent.

"Are you hungry already?" Harry asked, but the Animagus was already across the street, pulling out his pouch of money and barking out his order.

"Just the meat! More meat!" snapped Sirius, his eyes glazing over with anticipation. "Ah, Merlin! Good man. Keep the change."

The startled vendor stared at the gleaming Galleon. It was enough for a hundred portions. A slow smile grew on his face as he watched his customer stride off, plunging his face into the packet of food as he went.

"Mphf…" said Sirius, chewing ferociously.

"Well, what should we do now?" Harry asked. "Since I took the day off, we should make the most of it. Would you like to go somewhere or see someone?"

Sirius gulped down a huge mouthful of spiced meat and looked blank for a moment.

"What are Fred and George Weasley up to these days?" he asked. "Those blokes were always a bit lively."

"Uh, well, Fred was killed in the war," said Harry sadly. "George still has the joke shop. It's about two blocks down."

"Fantastic! Let's go then," said Sirius. "That shop's got to be the best. What a lucky thing I got access to my vault again."

Unhinging his jaw like a boa constrictor, he stuffed the last of the kebab into his mouth and set off down the street, gesturing to Harry to follow.

* * *

"Ginny, we're back!" called Harry, eager to see his wife after his intense day.

The house remained obstinately silent, a most unusual occurrence.

"Harry, what happened to my dear old mum's portrait? How come she's not screaming and cursing you?" asked Sirius. "I just realized I haven't heard her gentle voice once since I got back."

"Her portrait was so deranged because after she and Regulus were dead, there was no one left to care for Kreacher. She was amazingly loyal to the little guy and wanted him to be safe here in the house. Once she knew he was cared for and loved, she went to sleep. She really never speaks any more, and almost never wakes up. Ginny put that tapestry over her so she won't be disturbed by light and noise."

"Excellent," Sirius said heartily, although he eyed the tapestry on the wall curiously. "Let's see what we can find to eat."

They went to the kitchen, where they found a large cauldron simmering. Delicious aromas were emanating from it and a spoon occasionally stirred the contents.

"Great! Since Ginny's started the stew, we'll get the rest ready for when she comes home," Harry said cheerfully, opening the refrigerator.

"Do you wear an apron when you do woman work?" growled Sirius, a brittle edge in his voice.

"No," Harry replied. "What are you talking about? Woman work? We eat, therefore we cook. Ginny and I share the cooking duties."

The Animagus shook his head, looking rather stricken. "Even your dad wasn't as whipped as this, Harry. A man needs to set strict rules from the very beginning or a witch will tromp all over him."

"Gin can tromp on me any time," he replied with an amused smirk. "I don't want to be married to a doormat. We call it _compromise_."

Harry assembled a splendid looking antipasto salad while the oven heated, and then he put the bread into the oven to warm. He considered asking Sirius to set the table, but there was a disapproving pout on his face, so it didn't seem like a good idea. The sound of the front door opening brought a relieved smile to his face.

"Harry," called Ginny. "We're back!"

He strode quickly to meet her and if there was a slightly desperate intensity to his kiss of greeting, he hoped she didn't notice.

"Master Harry, we is moving to a new house," exclaimed Kreacher, casting a wary eye at Sirius and slinking behind Ginny's legs.

"Really?" asked Harry.

"We found a lovely place, actually in Ottery St. Catchpole," said Ginny. "It's perfect and Mum promised she won't come 'round unless we invite her. She doesn't want to be a pest."

A snort came from the kitchen doorway, causing the young people to stare at him.

"Did you say something?" asked Ginny, a determined smile on her face.

"No!" said Sirius. "I'll go fetch the wine for dinner and go clean up. It's been a busy, productive day, hasn't it, Harry."

"Yes," he said. Watching until Sirius had left the room, he whispered, "How soon can we move, Gin? I can't handle many more days like this one."

"You beat Voldemort," she said.

"Yeah, by letting him kill me! Gin, how could my dad and mum _stand_ him?" asked Harry, a feverish gleam in his eyes. "He drank from the bloody Fountain of Magical Brethren and asked the Minister's secretary to bring him a plate of chicken legs. He got plastered at lunch and then wanted to go to George's shop. He bought a pile of stuff, including fireworks, lit some off in the shop, then called George "Fred," and asked him if he was fool enough to get married like Ron and me!"

Ginny's eyes grew wide. "Did George hex him?"

"He offered him a sample of what he called strengthening vitamins, to pick him up after the hard time he had. But," his voice fell to a guilty whisper, "I recognized the U-No-Poo."

Ginny laughed out loud, throwing her arms around her husband. "My family's the best. I love George!"

"Anyway, dinner's ready," said Harry, trying to forget his earlier sufferings.

"Let me wash up and I'll tell you about our new place while we eat. I think you'll love it," she said. "Kreacher and I can be ready by Saturday to move everything. Courage, my poor husband!"

Sirius interrupted them, trotting past on his way upstairs, humming a cheery tune.

"By the way, you two, I think Friday night will be the perfect day for my Resurrection Party. Harry, I'll make a list of guests and then you can go over it and tell me how many aren't dead. I'll start sending owls out tomorrow morning, around noon."

"Erm, okay," said Harry weakly.

"And Ginny, don't worry your pretty head about the party food! I'll take care of all that," he caroled brightly back at them.

"Don't worry, I won't," she muttered with a scowl.


	4. A Paradigm Shift Made Manifest

A Paradigm Shift Made Manifest

Thursday dawned bright and sunny, in contrast to Harry's dour mood. He was heading off to work, but knowing Sirius's Resurrection Party would start at eight o'clock the next evening, his temples were throbbing already.

"Kreacher and I will get everything moved while he's getting ready for his party, and we'll sneak away Saturday morning while he's hung over," promised Ginny.

Harry was able smile for the first time in days at the thought of it. "Marrying you was the most brilliant thing I ever did," he told her fervently.

They shared the tranquility for a blissful moment, and then Harry walked out the door, breathing deep the fresh, Animagus-free air. He pondered this quandary for a long moment, wishing he could consult someone wiser about how to handle this. Suddenly he smiled, knowing what to do.

* * *

"Why, good morning, Mr. Potter," said Minerva McGonagall, her austere features softening slightly as he entered her office. "I shall be in the Great Hall, overseeing breakfast, but please stay as long as you think necessary."

She exited her office and Harry slowly approached the portrait.

"Good morning, Harry," said Albus Dumbledore, smiling fondly at the young man. "I have not seen you in this office before, but I have heard that you're doing very well. Married, too! Congratulations, my dear boy."

The sight of that beloved face eased the nervous tension in Harry and he grinned. "Thanks, Professor. We're expecting a baby in September. Life's been good. Um, thanks for everything you did to help me. I wish I could have said that while you were alive."

A snort came from the next portrait over, and another from one near the door.

"You're very welcome, my boy," said Dumbledore. "It grieved me deeply to know what would come to you. You handled your burden bravely and our world is safe now. But what brings you here today?"

Harry gulped. He felt so ungrateful. Sirius loved him! How could he say the words?

"Hurry and spit it out, Potter, so I can take every painted Galleon the old coot has," said a deep, familiar voice. "_Thank Merlin_ I didn't know what an abysmal poker player he was while I was alive, dancing between him and the bloody Dark Lord!"

"Professor Snape!" exclaimed Harry, his heart pounding wildly as he faced the portrait. "I, uh, I…"

Familiar black eyes met his and a mocking smile was on the sallow features.

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured silkily.

He looked the same as in life, thought Harry, recalling the wizard's secret assistance, the integrity and steadfastness of him. The man he only knew after seeing his memories, after he was dead. Horrified, he realized tears were filling his eyes, but he resolutely faced the portrait Snape.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, choking slightly on the words. "I know you're only a portrait and I wish I'd known while you were alive. I behaved disgustingly to you, I didn't understand! I owe everything to you, Sir. Thank you."

"About time!" snapped Phineas Nigellus. "Too little too late, however."

"Be quiet, Phineas," snapped Professor Snape. "Remember, I'm the only one of us that was painted with a wand! You may yet be wetting yourself from an endless Tickling Charm."

The former Headmaster subsided, glowering at the hook-nosed wizard.

"What has brought you here, Potter?" asked Snape softly, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Since the moment the silver doe Patronus had come to him in the Forest of Dean, Harry had known on a very deep level that Professor Snape was on his side, so without thinking he blurted out, "It's Sirius! He's alive!"

Snape's eyes narrowed and a bitter sneer appeared. "Did you imagine we would all wish to celebrate his return?" he hissed.

"I-no! Don't be such a dunderhead, Sir! Bloody Sirius is driving me crazy! I came to ask Professor Dumbledore if he was always such a pain in the arse!"

The thin lips twitched, but Snape simply turned to Dumbledore's portrait, where the white-haired wizard was beginning to tiptoe out of his portrait.

"Hold it, Albus!" snapped Snape in a voice that brooked no refusal. "Don't move one ancient painted toe out of that frame!"

Dumbledore subsided, but pretended he was dozing off. Snape let him, confident that he could rouse him, and turned back to Harry.

"How in blazes did that psychotic idiot get out from behind the Veil?" he asked Harry. "We were positive that he was gone for good."

"He said he _climbed_ out, and it took years. Not long enough! Now he's terrorizing Kreacher, Ginny hates him, he peed on the tree in front of the house, he asked the Minister of Magic's secretary to bring him a plate of chicken legs and thinks I'm my dad half the time. I think he's an alcoholic, Sir, and the whole bloody house smells like wet, unwashed dog!"

Harry hadn't intended to say so much of it and he flushed, ashamed of his flood of whinging complaints.

Snape hastily turned around, but Harry could see his shoulders shaking and, forgetting that Snape was only a painting, said seriously, "Sir, um, are you all right?"

Professor Snape turned around, gasping for breath.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! How I wish my real self could have heard all that! Potter, I forgive you for being a dunderhead! I forgive you for looking like your father! I even forgive your vile, invasive Pensieve dive into my memories! You've bloody well made my eternity on this wall a painted piece of heaven!"

Snape collapsed into the painted chair behind him, still shaking with mirth, and Harry stared in amazement. Finally the portrait wizard looked up and their eyes met for a long moment. They both smiled tentatively and their sorry past was finally, easily laid to rest.

"I'm glad it made _you_ laugh," said Harry, trying to be resentful but failing. "Okay, so you were right about him and he's an idiot. But I still have to _do_ something!"

He smiled reluctantly at the portrait Snape.

"How about pushing him through the Veil again?"

"He's not stupid enough to go near it," replied Harry glumly. "Tomorrow he's having a Resurrection Party and I have to go to it."

"Have you any idea how little I pity you? Don't go."

"Sir, I can't stand him, and if we have him around too much I'll go mad, but… I'm _obligated!_ He's my godfather and he's rude, selfish and smells like he rolled in… Well, never mind that. But he's got no one else."

"What a pity you were not Sorted into Slytherin, where you'd have learned subtlety," murmured Snape. "But purely out of loathing for the beast and pity for your Gryffindor ineptitude, I'll consult with my senile colleagues and see if we can find some non-murderous way to relieve you of his presence."

Harry beamed at his former teacher, his eyes shining brilliantly.

"Thank you, Professor," he said. "I'm so glad I came here this morning."

"Ah, by the way, Potter, has Black mentioned me?" asked Snape idly, fingering his wand.

Harry frowned, staring down at the floor. "Yes, and when I told him you were a hero and the bravest man I've ever known, he was a real butthead!"

Phineas Nigellus choked at the sight of the delighted smile that flashed briefly across Snape's face, but a murderous glance from the wizard caused him to flee his frame, not looking back.

"Well, he was always an arrogant berk," said Snape mildly. "Come back tomorrow and I'll see what we can come up with."

Harry grinned at the assembled portraits, but frowned slightly at Dumbledore, who was snoring as though he had not a care in his painted world. Thank heavens he had Professor Snape to help him with this horrible mess.

"See you tomorrow, and thanks again, Professor Snape," he said earnestly.

"You're welcome, Potter," said the portrait Snape.

The door closed behind Potter and Snape surreptitiously wiped a tear from his eye.

"How touching, Severus," said Dumbledore softly.

Snape pointed his wand at the old wizard, glaring coldly.

"Deal the cards, Albus," he hissed.

* * *

Harry raced up the moving stairs to the Headmistress's office early Friday morning. He gave no thought to the reason for his urgency. Professor McGonagall had given him the password, _Black Licorice_, so in her absence he could consult with the portraits. It was a mark of her trust that she did not ask him directly what his business was.

Harry's eyes flew first to Professor Snape.

"Ah, Potter," said the portrait, nodding lazily. "Enjoying the company of your dear godfather?"

"No," replied Harry baldly. "He offended George Weasley and got a good dose of _U-No-Poo_ for his trouble. He's been howling in the bathroom for the last twelve hours. I'll admit Ginny and I thought it was amusing at first, but we got no sleep at all last night!"

Snape snickered, but controlled himself admirably for the most part.

"You know, that's my not-so great-great-great grandson whose suffering you're mocking," said Phineas Nigellus coolly.

"Your portrait is still there, why don't you go offer solace to him?" asked Snape, his eyes glinting.

Phineas shuddered and sat down, closing his eyes.

Snape rolled his eyes. "They're not sleeping, you know. Every bloody moron in a frame here is listening to every word we say. Pests!"

"Did you think of a plan?" asked Harry. "The dam-stupid party is tonight. I thought he had friends, but the only people on his list who aren't _dead_ are the Weasleys, Hagrid, Mundungus and Minister Shacklebolt. I mentioned that Mrs. Figg is still around, but he's too much of a snob to have a Squib in his house, even if she was in the Order!"

"A snob? Black?" asked Snape delicately, rolling his eyes disdainfully. "I had no idea."

Harry chuckled reluctantly, his spirits lifting in the company of Professor Snape's portrait.

"He drinks from the toilet," he confided. "He thinks we don't know he does it, but we can hear him and then there's water splashed all over the seat."

Snape began laughing uproariously, doubling over with mirth, and Harry, who had not had the nerve to laugh before, could finally see the sheer ridiculousness of it. They laughed madly together, while the other portraits muttered softly under their breath.

"I might suggest not flushing," Snape finally gasped, doubling over again at the childish idea.

Harry howled with mirth, thinking how sad it was he'd never known how amazingly funny Professor Snape was before this. They looked at each other and that set them off all over again. Harry was breathless, many minutes later, before he could speak again.

"I think we need something less temporary than not flushing, although it's better than nothing," he said solemnly. "Ginny's fed up with him, she wouldn't mind poisoning him, but I think that's going a bit too far."

One black brow rose as though Snape might disagree, but he merely said, "Traceless poisons only exist in Muggle crime novels. I would not advise poison unless you can make it appear that he committed suicide."

Remembering how upset Kreacher had been the previous evening when Sirius threw a soup tureen at him, Harry briefly considered and discarded the idea.

"No one who knows him would think Sirius would kill himself. His mission is to _linger_ as long as he can, giving as much trouble to people as he possibly can."

"Ah, Harry, this is your father's dearest friend you're speaking of," chided Dumbledore, looking slightly reproachful.

"Ignore him," said Snape coolly. "He's annoyed that I took every last Knut he had yesterday. And they say that in life he was _brilliant_!"

"Professor Dumbledore, when they were all students, did you know what jerks they all were? My dad and his friends, I mean," said Harry, remembering his father and Sirius tormenting their classmate viciously.

"Well, Harry… I, um," stammered Dumbledore, unable to meet his gaze. "I never claimed to be perfect!"

"Do you know what it's like to be ganged up on?" asked Harry indignantly. "Sirius almost got Professor Snape killed, why didn't you expel him? I saw records of all the trouble they got into, hexing people and everything. I don't think Sirius has changed much since he was fifteen, has he?"

"Regrettably no," said Dumbledore. "I'm sorry you must learn these things about people who love you."

The green eyes fixed on him relentlessly. "Did _you_ ever apologize to Professor Snape for letting them get away with attacking him for so long?"

"Potter, no! It's all right!" said Snape hastily. "Forget it, Albus."

But Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Even dead and a portrait on a wall, we can be held to account for our failings in life. You are right, Harry. Severus, I am deeply sorry I allowed Black and Potter to get away with so much. Especially with everything they did to you. I was wrong."

Snape glared irritably at both of them. He rose from his chair and paced restlessly back and forth in his frame. Finally he stopped and snapped, "Apology accepted. Now let's forget that and get back to neutralizing the mongrel."

A thought occurred to him and he mused, "Neutering often calms excitable male animals. Perhaps if he were drunk, Transformed and anesthetized at a Muggle pet hospital…"

Harry's mouth twitched, but he said, "Be serious, Professor!"

Snape leaned back in his throne-like, cushioned chair and said lazily, "As a no-longer living person, my responsibilities are lightened considerably, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes, but in fact it was… nice to see Professor Snape not having to do everything to save everybody's collective bacon. He smiled briefly.

"I should go to work. Contrary to what Sirius thinks, I _do_ have responsibilities," he said waspishly.

Snape's smirk was nearly approving. "Enjoy your party tonight, Potter. I might not object to hearing the details after it is over."

Harry grinned and said, "You know, we're planning to move out early tomorrow morning, while he's still sleeping it off. After we're unpacked, I'll come back to see if you've found a brilliant solution to my, uh, problem. Thanks, Professor. See you later."

He strode out of the office looking far more cheerful than when he had arrived.


	5. Party Tales

Party Tales

Around noon on Sunday, Harry Potter tiptoed twitchily into Headmistress McGonagall's office.

"Back again? I'm sure it can't be a healthy thing for a grown man to spend so much of his time pouring out his woes to portraits," sneered Phineas Nigellus.

Harry had headed straight for Professor Snape, but at the sound of that voice, he rounded on the other, snarling viciously.

"YOU! You were there, you… SPY!" Harry's teeth were gnashing as mere words failed him.

"Potter," said Snape coolly, "I await your tale with bated breath. Waste no more time on that self-aggrandizing blot. Consider who he is related to."

Recalled to the purpose of his visit, Harry turned and went to stand before Professor Snape's portrait.

"Good morning, Harry," said Dumbledore, rather sternly.

"Morning, Sir," he said, glancing over at him and hastily doing a double take. "Where's your hat, Professor?"

"It's over here, Potter. I use it to hold my winnings," said Snape, smirking at Dumbledore.

"I suffered several unfortunate reverses at cards recently, Harry," Dumbledore confided, his eyes twinkling benevolently. "Severus is a clever fellow. It has taken years for us to discover his luck at cards was not mere luck. The fellow is a bloody card shark. Soon he'll find no more takers for a friendly game."

"Never mind that," muttered Snape, glancing irritably at his former mentor. "What's new, Potter?"

His black eyes studied the young man's appearance, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the frown line that was beginning to look permanent between his brows.

"Sit down. Did you enjoy Black's Resurrection Party?" he asked cynically.

Harry sank bonelessly into the chair behind him, flinching in response to the query.

"He was drunk before the guests even arrived. He bought about eighty pounds of meat and cooked it, but not enough, then threw it all on platters on the kitchen table. There was nothing else, just meat, and of course, firewhiskey and wine and fortified butterbeer for the children. Hagrid couldn't come. Kingsley sent his regrets. When Fleur and Bill Weasley arrived, he grabbed their baby's bottle and filled it with butterbeer. No one else was fool enough to bring a helpless child into the asylum."

"But I'm sure everyone was thrilled to see the resurrected hero," murmured Snape, his eyes sparkling with malice.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Harry muttered, staring down at the floor.

All the portraits gazed in consternation as the Chosen One, the hero of their world, sank into a depressed stupor before them.

"Harry," said Dumbledore seriously. "It's not so bad. Sirius can be difficult, but your life is good. This is just a passing irritation."

Harry leaped to his feet, his green eyes suddenly blazing. He grabbed a tin of shortbread off the Headmistress's desk and flung it at the old wizard's portrait, where it bounced off harmlessly.

"SHUT UP! I grew up not knowing a damned thing, thanks to you. _You_ dumped me with bloody Aunt Petunia! _You_ let me believe fairy tales, handing me lemon drops instead of truth! You didn't tell me my dad and his friends were arrogant flaming piles of dung and you never told me _anything_ about my mum! She _liked_ them! Was _she_ an idiot?"

Snape's portrait remained expressionless as he watched Harry Potter melt down.

"Sit down, Potter," he snapped. "Enough!"

Harry started and instinctively he sat down, ashamed of his tantrum.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking from Snape to Dumbledore. "I should go."

"You haven't finished the thrilling tale of your godfather's Resurrection Party," said Snape with an irritable frown. "You have no idea how dreary it is, loitering on a wall in case Minerva wants to bother us. That shortbread tin generally hits me, you know. It was pleasing to see Dumbledore get it for a change."

A weak chuckle escaped Harry. He was sick of consoling words. Snape's cranky attitude was refreshing.

"Well, he offended Molly right away, by loading Arthur with firewhiskey. They sang sea chanteys together, and made up, erm, vulgar limericks that didn't really work," said Harry. "Mundungus arrived and joined right in, but Sirius caught him stuffing what's left of the silverware into his pockets and they ended up dueling. Since they were both smashed, hexes flew everywhere."

"Charming," said Snape, his lips twitching.

"None of them noticed when Ginny took her mum, Hermione, Fleur and the baby to the new house. Ginny was anxious that the move go smoothly, she said. But they left me in charge of the drunk tank," he said, quivering at the memory.

"You're an Auror, I believe," said Snape irritably. "You have authority to use spells not generally legal, in time of need."

"On my in-laws?" snapped Harry. "My bloody godfather?"

A raised eyebrow was all he got in response and Snape's expression made Harry suddenly laugh, pondering a delightful array of hexes he should have used.

"I spent too much time listening to Aunt Petunia," he said ruefully. "I'll do better next time."

"Good. Now was there more drama?"

In his mind, Harry relived the most dreadful memory.

"Harry!" said Sirius, lurching suddenly into the chair next to him, "How did you became such a bloody sanctimonious git? You _respect_ Snivellus? It makes me sick to think of it. Your dad would puke! That long hair even makes you _look like_ bloody Snape!"

"Would my mum puke?" asked Harry softly. "You never told me _anything_ about her. I never knew they were friends, best friends since they were kids. Why did you and my dad always hate him?"

"Ugly, greasy, Dark Arts lover. We did Lily a favor by showing her what he really was!" growled Sirius.

"I don't believe anything you say," said Harry, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "All those years he followed me around school, trying to keep me safe and out of trouble. _I didn't know_, and I was horrible to him. But he protected me for her sake and he did more than anyone to stop Voldemort."

"YOU UNGRATEFUL WHELP!" roared Sirius, pulling his wand and trying to hold it steady. "You traitor to James!"

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _snarled Harry, pushed beyond endurance. "I don't want to hear another word about Professor Snape from you. He was a great man, and look at you! A slobbering drunk, talking rubbish about a person I care about!"

People had begun peeking into the drawing room tentatively and too late, Harry saw green robes swish out of the portrait on the wall. He cursed the whim that had made them move Phineas Nigellus downstairs, out of earshot of the bedrooms.

Dumbledore's portrait cleared his throat, recalling Harry to his surroundings.

"_He_ told you, didn't he?" asked Harry, glaring at Phineas's impassive face.

Snape nodded. "What happened after that?"

Grimacing, Harry muttered, "I Stunned him and Levitated him upstairs. Bill, Ron and George dragged Arthur out, and after I emptied Mundungus's pockets I told him I'd arrest him if he wasn't gone in five seconds."

"It could have been worse," Snape said airily, smirking when a teacup from the desk shattered against his canvas. "Not bad, Potter. If I were alive, that would have hit me."

"_Reparo_," Harry said, Levitating the repaired cup back on the desk. He raised his eyes to Snape's, which were glittering intently.

"Odd that I have the better of you for the first time in our acquaintance, isn't it?" asked Snape. "How lucky I'm dead, so I can maintain the upper hand."

Harry began to chuckle and said, "Are you mad? Erm… Sir? You dogged me through this bloody school for six years. Remember detentions? Fourteen-foot long parchments for homework? Then you topped it off with a baptism by ice when I had to fetch that stupid sword. I'm lucky I can still father children!"

"I hadn't considered it from that perspective," sneered Snape, his eyes gleaming as he studied Harry. "Of course I never had children, so _that_ never occurred to me, what with fighting the Dark Lord and all."

He'd never had the chance for a life of his own, Harry realized too late, his eyes falling again. Merlin, how he wished…

"Potter, my life was the result of my choices," said Snape evenly. "_Don't go there_."

Harry rolled his eyes and asked, "Were you _always_ able to read my mind?"

"What did I tell you about mind-reading? Are you still incapable of seeing subtle distinctions?"

Harry smiled and said, "It was a figure of Muggle speech, the result of my unfortunate upbringing. I can tell you the difference between an Inferius and a ghost, if you'd like."

Snape's thin mouth twitched and he looked appraisingly at Harry.

"Have you placed protections around your new home?" he asked.

Harry's face fell. "I didn't tell you that part. Last evening, just as we were sitting down to eat, Sirius came galloping up in dog shape. He stayed for supper. He knows where we live."

"Ironic."

"Indeed," said Harry dryly.

"Does anyone else find Black as irritating as you do?" mused Snape. "Could you convince someone to dispatch him for you?"

"Everyone else can avoid him," said Harry.

"I see only one solution then," Snape said, evil mischief lighting his eyes. "You must be honest. Tell him the truth."

A vast echoing silence enveloped the office and all the portraits stared back and forth between the pair.

"CRAP! BOLLOCKS!" shouted Harry, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Are you kidding? I'm a stupid Gryffindor, I _know_ about all that rubbish! Where's your bloody Slytherin cunning? I need something DEVIOUS!"

"And who was it that wanted to be in Gryffindor? Who asked the Hat to put you in the glorious house of the swaggering dunderheads? Did it escape your notice that the bloody thing _does what you want it to_?" hissed Snape.

Harry replied with a string of swear words that startled the assembled portraits.

"Impressive," Snape murmured quietly. "Potter, since you've gotten yourself into this mess through sheer Gryffindor-style idiocy, a solution will be challenging. A Slytherin would have known better than to get to this point."

"That's cold, Severus," said Dumbledore. "If we didn't Sort so young, I believe _you_ would have gone into Gryffindor."

"Spare me," he replied sourly. "Seven years with the bloody Marauders, _sharing a dorm with them_? I'd never have survived!"

"Point taken," replied the older wizard, looking disappointed.

"Look at Potter's situation. You see where Gryffindor gets a person, Albus? The whole house setup is a recipe for disaster. If I'd actually had any _power_ as Headmaster, I'd have scrapped the whole cursed thing! Nevertheless, once more I shall attempt to save your honorary bloody, pampered grandson's arse."

Dumbledore glared haughtily, but subsided when Snape twirled his wand through his fingers.

"How are your wards and protective spells?" Snape asked, looking sternly at Harry.

"Not my specialty, but I'll stop in the library on my way out and do some research," Harry said.

An ironic smirk greeted his intention. "It may not be necessary, but it is good to be prepared."

"Now you're a bloody Wizard Scout!" smirked Phineas. "How perfect, Snape!"

Professor Snape pointed his wand at the left side of his painting. All the wizards to his left hit their painted floors and a spell flashed through, striking the top of Phineas's head. He sank to the floor of his painting and began snoring monstrously.

"Try existing in a painting next to _that_ for eternity," muttered one elderly wizard.

Snape glared and the rest all subsided, pretending to sleep once more.

"Could you all keep Phineas from going round and stirring things up?" asked Harry. "A sensible portrait might be able to exercise some control over his lunatic descendent, but he's just a pain."

"Pureblood families are either liars about purity or completely mad," said Snape. "Need I elaborate as to which category I believe the Black family is in?"

"I should go home," said Harry, reluctantly standing up. "I like it here, you know. So peaceful, no dogs, no drunk godfathers staggering around… No bloody fleas!"

Professors Dumbledore and Snape glanced at each other and back to Harry in some surprise. As Harry and Snape focused on each other once more, Dumbledore watched the pair intently.

"I'll ask the Headmistress to owl you if I find a devious, Slytherin solution to your Gryffindor woes," said Professor Snape with a sarcastic smirk. "Phineas is, of course, also a Slytherin. But in this case I think it best if we leave him out of this. I'll Stun him before you come again."

Harry grinned. Looking slightly more cheerful, he left the office.

"Severus," said Dumbledore grimly, once the door had closed. "I must speak with you."

Snape was rather sure he knew what it was about. The whole subject had a surreal quality to it. He hadn't known what it meant to be a portrait. He hadn't know much at all, come to think about it…

"Yes, Headmaster?" he asked quietly.


	6. An Offer of Assistance

An Offer of Assistance

Harry was in a foul mood during the following week, moody and irritable. He knew Ginny was worried about him. When Sirius came round every day, she watched closely, as though she thought he might curse the Animagus.

Sirius did not remember the unfortunate events at his party. He assumed he'd blacked out as usual, and when he woke Saturday evening, he was in time to track Harry and Ginny down at their new home. He was bounding with high spirits and eager to entice Harry off on adventures.

"It's a fine life, Harry, and too short to waste in sober pursuits. We saved the bloody wizarding world and now we should reap our rewards," Sirius said for the third time that day.

"But Harry's worked all day, Sirius, and we have to start decorating the baby's bedroom," Ginny said. "We're going to be parents in a few months."

"It'll be a great day when little James Sirius Potter is born," he said loudly. "I bet he'll look just like James."

"Uh, if it's a boy we're thinking of naming him Fred," said Harry.

The Animagus stared at him in horror, seeming unable to grasp such blasphemy. He left shortly after, but most unfortunately he never stayed away long.

One evening after he'd left very late, Ginny approached Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry? Besides the obvious, I mean. Do you hate our new house?"

He took her hand and pulled her down to sit next to him and smiled. Her pregnancy was starting to show and her skin had a clear creamy quality that made her look… radiant.

"No! The house is great!" he said, putting an arm around her. "And have I mentioned that you look especially beautiful tonight?"

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "You haven't mentioned it, and thank you. But I hoped once we got out of Grimmauld Place, we'd be okay. Even Kreacher's cheerful, but you've been so glum and distracted."

"He found us so fast," scowled Harry. "Why doesn't he hang out with other people? _Why us_?"

"He doesn't have friends. I don't think he ever really cared for a single person but your dad, Harry. When we were kids we never saw much of him, and he could gas on about '_James, James, James'_ with Remus Lupin," she said. "We really didn't know him very well, did we?"

"I thought he cared about _me_," said Harry, bitterness evident in his voice.

She sighed. "I think as much as Sirius Black can love anyone, he loves you," she said. "But it's not…"

"It's not," he agreed. "When I first met him, he said he'd take me away from the Dursleys. I thought I'd have a real home with someone who cared about me."

She sighed and said, "Can you imagine what life with Sirius would've been like? At least the way things worked out, you got to be with us for a lot of holidays. With Sirius, you would've ended up taking care of him on top of dealing with school and Voldemort and everything."

"I never thought of it like that," he said with a slight shudder. "What a relief I never had to do _that_."

"It could have been worse," she agreed solemnly.

Harry started and a pleased smirk touched his lips.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, after I told Professor Snape about that bloody horrible Resurrection Party, he told me it could've been worse, in that _insufferable_ way he has," he murmured reminiscently.

Watching him closely, she asked, "What happened then?"

"I threw a teacup from McGonagall's desk at him and smashed it," Harry said reminiscently.

"Harry, you know it's not really him," she said gently.

His fists clenched in his lap and impatiently he replied, "I know! But Gin, I went to see Professor Dumbledore's portrait, to ask him about Sirius. I forgot Snape's portrait would even be there. Isn't that stupid? But he's the one who helps, much more than Dumbledore… I feel better after I've talked to him."

"You didn't know the truth about him until after he'd died. If you'd known, he would have failed and you _both_ would have died. So it's tragic, but there's no help for it now."

He heaved a weary sigh. "I know. But the Headmaster's portraits are weird. Not like the Fat Lady and not like ghosts. It's scary how he really seems, just like he was, but not _hiding_ any more. I can see who he really was, and d' you know what, Gin? _I like him a lot_. I missed knowing someone amazing, and there's no way it could've been different, but it feels wrong. He was right in front of me the whole time!"

She hugged him and said, "You've lost a lot in your life. It's not fair."

He smiled and if it felt a bit forced, he hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Let's lock up and head for bed. I want to get out of here and go to work early, so he can't follow me. People are starting to talk about that pesky black dog following me around."

Smiling at each other, they began locking up thoroughly; having learned that carelessness meant a smelly dog sleeping on the couch in the morning. Harry chuckled to himself; glad Ginny was so smart about things. Really, it could have been worse, he thought.

* * *

An owl from Professor McGonagall arrived on Saturday. Ginny watched Harry's face light up and sighed. Nothing good could come from his need to bond with a Hogwarts portrait, since Headmistress McGonagall needed her office. Not to mention that Harry had a real life to live. But it did her good to see him brighten up, and if Professor Snape's portrait had found a solution for the Sirius problem, it would be wonderful. Sirius creeped her out, if the truth be told. He seemed to think Harry would have wanted to hang out with him constantly, if only they hadn't gotten married.

"Good news?" she asked.

He grinned and said, "Professor McGonagall says they have a proposal that may help. You're invited. Want to come along?"

"Um, okay," she said. "Hurry, before you-know-who shows up."

They hustled outside. Looking over the hill, a black figure was barely visible in the distance. Harry locked the door hastily, grabbed Ginny's arm and they Side-Along Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

"That was close," she exclaimed as they walked to the castle.

Ginny was puffing slightly as they climbed the stairs.

"I forgot how much walking we did here," she gasped.

"_Black Licorice_," said Harry, and he ushered her onto the revolving stairs.

The door was open and they walked in. Ginny was wide-eyed at the sight of all the portraits, as each and every Headmaster and Headmistress was avidly watching their entrance.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," said Headmistress McGonagall, smiling kindly at them.

"You look great, Professor McGonagall," said Ginny, shaking hands warmly. "It's weird to be here. The last time I was in this office, my friends and I were in trouble for trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor."

The Headmistress shook her head sadly. "That was a dreadful time, was it not?"

"Ah, sweet memories. The last time she was here, I was tap dancing around the bloody demented Carrows, trying to protect those impudent brats from death by Unforgivable," murmured a cold, shockingly familiar voice.

Ginny jumped, then laughed. The actual event had been terrifying and she would never forget it, but his description was so cynical and so incredibly… Snape-like!

"Thank you for my detention with Hagrid," she said, slowly approaching Professor Snape's portrait. "You were amazing. I thought we were going to die, and I was terrified of you. At the time, we thought you were a fool for assigning that punishment. We didn't realize the truth until much later."

He studied her, an ironic gleam in his black eyes, and she realized what Harry had meant. This was not an ordinary portrait. He wore formal black, as he always had, and he was unmistakably alive. She looked at Dumbledore's portrait and his blue eyes twinkled as he nodded to her.

"What _are_ you all?" she asked, deeply shocked.

Dumbledore shrugged and murmured, "Magic, my dear young lady."

"But you're all really dead and gone, I mean gone on to wherever, right? You're not trapped here, hanging on a wall instead of going to heaven or something, are you?"

'No, but portraithood does have occasional challenges, because there is more to us than to ordinary portraits," said Dumbledore. "It can be tedious, hence Phineas's pleasure in visiting his portrait in Grimmauld Place."

She looked around the room and finally spotted Phineas Nigellus in an elaborately framed portrait near the door. He bowed ironically to her. She sniffed in response, having encountered him unexpectedly on several awkward occasions.

"She is as domineering as her mother," he confided to the wizard next to him.

Ginny snorted and turned back to the portraits before her. Professor Snape was studying Harry intently.

"Have you vanquished your dear godfather yet?" Snape asked softly.

Harry shook his head, but Ginny noticed that the misery that Sirius roused in him these days was completely absent from his demeanor.

"If we don't lock up completely, we'll find a reeking dog asleep on our couch every morning. One day he brought a dead rat and left it on the rug. If he can't get in, he sleeps in front of the door. I stepped on him when I was leaving for work yesterday!"

Snape smirked and said, "Has no vainglorious Gryffindor solution occurred to you? _Or have you told him the truth_?"

Harry shuddered at the thought. Sirius clung to him with the power of a desperate leech. He took off his glasses and polished them on his sleeve.

"Have _you_ thought of something, Professor?" he asked hopefully.

Snape nodded. "Actually, it was you who inadvertently found the solution the last time you were here."

Ginny and Harry gazed beseechingly at him, waiting for salvation, but it was Dumbledore who spoke.

"You said a sensible portrait might be able to exercise some control," said Dumbledore. "Well, Phineas is a bit out of touch with common sense, having been a portrait for so long. So a more practical portrait will be in your home for a time, to help you deal with Sirius."

Harry swallowed hard, feeling like a pathetic idiot, but hoping desperately…

"If you feel he can help, Severus has agreed to have a second portrait in your home, where Mr. Black may enjoy his company," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry's eyes flew to Snape's face, a wry, hesitant smile playing about his lips. "Are you sure you can stand it, Professor? _My_ house? Sirius too?"

"What's one more wretched task?" he sneered, carefully avoiding Harry's eyes. "If you do not object, that is," he added, looking at Ginny.

"You're very welcome, and I can't wait for Sirius to get a look at you," she declared. "But, um, what if he destroys your portrait? That would be awful, and remember that he almost did in the Fat Lady, back in the day."

"There are protective spells on the portrait I shall give you, and I trust you will perform more," said the Headmistress sternly. "Our Headmaster portraits are extremely rare and valuable."

"Thank you, Professor," said Ginny. "We've been at our wits end, so I hope Professor Snape can help us."

"Never send a boy to do a man's work," muttered Phineas with a spiteful sneer.

Professor McGonagall laid a large empty portrait on her desk and performed a shrinking spell. She handed placed the tiny thing in Harry's hand and he put it inside his robes for safekeeping.

"See you soon, Professor Snape," he said softly to Snape. "Hey, Professor Dumbledore, you have your hat again!"

"The luck changed for a time here, but in the way of most things, I suppose Severus will clean me out again soon," he said cheerfully.


	7. Welcome Home, Professor Snape

Welcome Home, Professor Snape

"We can't let Sirius see the portrait before we cast protective spells," said Harry as they walked toward the gates.

"We'll do everything but the Fidelius," she declared. "We'll put him in the drawing room, above the low bookshelf. He's amazing, isn't he? The portraits are so real, but I'm glad they're not really… I mean, to have your soul hanging on the wall of an office, forever…"

"It confuses me," said Harry. "They're like they were when they were alive. I forget it's not really them."

"I'd like to think the real Dumbledore and Snape are in some amazing afterlife and really happy," she said. "Fred too."

"They are," said Harry firmly, remembering his time-out-of-time at King's Cross. "The portraits don't know what comes after, so they _aren't_ souls. You're right, it would be horrible if it was really them."

"Um, won't it be weird to have our old teacher hanging on our wall, alive?" she asked.

"He's more to me than our old teacher, Gin," said Harry. "I feel like he was always there, a presence in my whole life and I just never knew it." He put a hand inside his robes, reassuring himself that the portrait was safe. He felt lucky. By rights Professor Snape should hate him, but instead, he was willing to help him deal with Sirius. They passed out of the gates and he smirked guiltily as they Apparated home.

* * *

Harry enlarged the empty portrait and affixed it to the wall, making sure it could be seen from every corner of the room, and the hall leading from the front door. Even without the magical occupant, they agreed it was a handsome piece of art. Ginny went to help Kreacher make lunch. They decided to act like it was a normal Saturday, knowing at some point their persistent guest would be back. They'd do the protective spells right after lunch. In the meantime, Harry studied the remarkable painting.

Professor Snape was absent from the portrait, but the background was elegantly depicted. The Headmaster's office, with desk and chair, shelves full of books, and facing him, a large, throne-like chair with green velvet cushions. Phineas Nigellus's portrait at Grimmauld Place was a poor thing compared with it.

"Master Harry!" called Kreacher, poking his head into the room. "Young Mistress is waiting."

"Kreacher, we'll have a magical guest joining us here," Harry said, beckoning him inside. "This is Headmaster Snape's portrait. He won't be here all the time, but I hope you'll behave when he's with us."

"Kreacher prefers this kind of guest," muttered the elf. "Not the screaming dog. Now it is time for lunch.

The moment the room was empty, the portrait's occupant strode into view. He sat down in the throne-chair and studied Potter's home. His black eyes took in every detail admiring the view from the front window. The other Heads had declared him mad for contemplating this, but he had discovered that even in portrait form he was an outsider. They were, for the most part, a tedious lot, centuries disconnected from the living world. This second portrait was an escape for him and, after giving his life over to the will of others, _he_ chose to do this…

A rattling came from the front door, and the door opened with a slam.

"Ja-Harry!" called a revoltingly familiar voice.

Sirius Black flung himself into the drawing room and his eyes were drawn immediately to the large, rich portrait on the wall.

"BLOODY HELL! HARRY! WHERE IN BLAZES DID THIS HIDEOUS, UGLY PAINTING COME FROM? I SWEAR HIS EYES ARE STARING LIKE HE'S ALIVE!"

Snape looked into the gray eyes of the hysterical Animagus, realizing he must have drunk his lunch. He remained motionless in his chair, watching the frenzy his mere presence was fomenting.

Harry and Ginny came into the room and Sirius grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him to stand before the portrait.

"Hello, Professor Snape," said Harry, biting his lip.

"Potter," said Snape, nodding slightly. "Mrs. Potter, and Black."

"AAAAAAAHHHH! IT'S ALIVE! MERLIN'S DECAYING BAGPIPES!" shrieked Sirius, his eyes bulging.

Snape glanced at Ginny's smirk and then back at Potter, who seemed to be torn between guilt and laughter.

"Calm down, Sirius," said Ginny, her voice admirably calm. "It's a great honor to have Professor Snape's portrait in our home, and there's no need for you to be so rude."

The portrait Snape choked, impressed by her control. The resemblance to her clever and obnoxious twin brothers had never been stronger, he thought.

"Harry, if you wanted to hurt me, why didn't you bring my mum's bloody portrait along with you too?" asked Sirius bitterly. "Why this? And how can you stand to look at that ugly git?"

Harry found his voice, overcoming the rush of conflicting emotions in him. The last time he had been in the company of these two, he'd thought Professor Snape was his enemy. Now he knew better.

"It's not about you," said Harry firmly, glancing into the black eyes of the portrait. "Professor Snape's portrait is here because I want him here. I expect you to behave respectfully."

"_What about HIM?_" shrieked Sirius, pointing and staring hatefully at his former victim. "I will not be insulted by bloody Snivellus Snape!"

"He hasn't insulted you," Harry pointed out. "He hasn't said a word to you, has he?"

"MY NAME! HE SAID MY NAME!" Sirius screamed, rapidly becoming quite deranged.

"Well, that's more than _you've_ been capable of," Ginny snapped. "You've insulted him repeatedly, and without provocation. Professor Snape saved Harry's life, not to mention my friends' lives and mine too. I don't want to hear a word against him from _anyone_."

Staring in turn at each of them, he finally turned back to Snape's portrait, where the portrait wizard's expression gave nothing away.

"You can't do this to me!" Sirius snarled. "You have to choose Harry. Get rid of old Snivellus or I'm out of here! Gone forever!"

Harry actually felt sorry for Sirius, seeing his deep unhappiness, but he was no child, to be given an ultimatum by a bully.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but Professor Snape's portrait is here for as long as he wants it to be," he said firmly. "You're welcome here too, if you can behave yourself."

Sirius looked from Harry to Ginny, unable to believe this was happening. Finally he looked again at the portrait, where Snape sat motionless, only his eyes betraying his awareness of the situation.

"I loathe you!" he growled, and dodging around Harry, he ran forward and spat furiously on the portrait before running out the door.

Ginny immediately used her wand to clean the canvas. Looking at her horrified husband and the remarkably calm Snape, she asked cheerfully, "Who wants to lay odds on how soon he'll come back?"

* * *

Ginny went to bed early that evening. She had never been one to obsess about her health, but her pregnancy was a fine excuse to allow Harry to spend time with the portrait. He tried to hide his feelings, but she saw how much he enjoyed Professor Snape's presence.

Harry decided to stay in the dimly lit drawing room, fairly sure that Sirius would return. Professor Snape had gone back to his Hogwarts portrait after Sirius had left, but Harry would protect his portrait. He had cast every protective spell he knew, and planned to ask Professor Snape if there were others. He had not known how the two would react to each other, but Sirius had gone on the attack, while Professor Snape refused to be baited. Somehow this didn't surprise him, but he was surprised by his lack of surprise.

"Wandering in the night again, Potter?" murmured Professor Snape. "Will you ever outgrow that obnoxious habit?"

Grateful for the darkness, Harry grinned. "He'll be back tonight, Sir. I'd rather be here to minimize the damage."

"He is drearily predictable."

Harry inhaled and said slowly, "I didn't understand him at all, before, when I was a kid."

"You were not terribly insightful," agreed the portrait wizard. "You compounded that with an appalling boldness and your misguided belief that nothing could harm you, no matter what stupid risks you took."

"Hermione said I had a 'saving people thing.' But I'm sorry I didn't learn Occlumency, Professor. I was a real jerk, and I could have done better."

"Humility? From the _Chosen One_?"

"Did you _really_ think I liked all that rubbish people said about me?" asked Harry irritably.

There was quite a long pause.

"Perhaps your resemblance to your appalling father led me to believe you resembled him in that way," said Professor Snape, shrugging slightly. "For a time, at least. _He_ would have taken full advantage of that title. But there's no point in offering my opinion of him to you. It cannot be pleasant."

"I don't remember them at all," Harry confessed. "That day, when I saw what he was like… I couldn't believe it…"

"You're not the first person to be disappointed in your father. _I_, however, am the last person you should ask about his character."

Recollecting what he knew of their relationship, Harry couldn't believe Snape was so restrained. But a sudden sound from outside brought him to stand next to the portrait.

"Relax, Potter, your protective spellwork was quite adequate. Stand across the room. I wish to see what he intends to do," Snape murmured softly.

The front door opened and closed quietly, unlike Sirius's general noisy entrance. The Animagus lurched into the room, reeking of firewhisky and staggering slightly. He headed straight for the portrait, not bothering to look around the room, and raised his hand as though to strike.

"Say goodbye, Snivellus," he growled softly.

"_Impedimenta!_" Harry snapped, and lit the lamp.

Sirius was frozen, a gleaming knife mere inches from the canvas. Harry knew that with the protective spells on it, the portrait would not have been damaged. But he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He removed the knife from the upraised hand and looked into Sirius's eyes sadly.

"Why?" he asked. "You don't need to do this."

He removed the spell and Sirius stumbled forward, falling against the bookshelf under the painting. Books cascaded onto his feet. He looked up into the gleaming eyes of Professor Snape, rage transforming his face.

"Ugly, greasy, revolting little oddball!" he snarled. "You can't even stay decently dead!"

"I assure you I am quite dead," said Snape. "I fail to understand why a mere magical portrait of me sends you into such a frenzy."

"You're stealing James's son and that's disgusting! You can't do it! He's _my godson_!"

Sirius staggered to his feet and swung around to face Harry.

"Harry, how can you stand to look at him? He followed us, he stalked James and hexed him every chance he got! He tried to give me to the Dementors!"

"Sirius, calm down. There's no reason for you to go on like this," said Harry. "You've had too much to drink. Why don't you get some sleep and we can talk in the morning?"

Sirius fixed his bleary gaze on Harry's face and his expression softened. But he glanced at the portrait, and the sight of Snape, immaculate in his black robes, seated in the Headmaster's office, was too much. He spun around and ran to the front door, slamming out of the house.

Harry followed, but all he saw was the black dog running away down the road, howling miserably. Slowly, he returned to the drawing room and looked helplessly up at Professor Snape.

"Potter, he must make his own choices."

Harry bent down and began replacing the books on the shelf. When he finished, he stood up, gazing sadly at Professor Snape.

"You're right," he said. "You've been right more often than I understood, Sir. I still have that cursed saving-people thing. And having him around, I'm probably going to learn things about all of them, even my mum, that I'm not going to like."

Their eyes met for an intense moment, but then Harry's mouth began to twitch.

"It's different anyway," he said lightly. "Maybe not better, but I'm glad you're here, Professor Snape. I'm going to get some sleep now. Ginny says he'll keep having these tantrums, but she thinks nothing will keep him from coming 'round."

"She must be the most intelligent of the Weasleys," mused Snape. "She's right about Black. I disliked thinking of him during my life, but he seemed not to want a life of his own, even then. He seems stubbornly fixated on your father."

Harry sighed. It was too much to understand and deal with all at once. He pointed his wand at the lamp and put it out. The two wizards, one living and one portrait, stared at each other in the dim light.

"What do you do, as a portrait?" he asked curiously.

"Loiter in the Headmistress's office and play endless hands of poker," Snape said rather acerbically. "I believe it grows less tedious as the centuries pass and the memory of one's own existence fades."

"So you must be arrested at the point you died. But whatever you are here, your soul went on," said Harry.

Snape sneered faintly and mused, "I wonder… Heaven or hell?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Fishing for compliments, Sir? I hope heaven is really that stupid place with angels in white, plucking on harps and grinning like Professor Lockhart. You'd look ridiculous!"

The portrait wizard tried to scowl, but his mouth twitched and he said, " Well, since you're the sainted, bloody Chosen One, you'll undoubtedly end there, looking just as moronic as I. Go away now, Potter. I plan to win Dumbledore's hat back before morning. After dancing to his tune for so long, I enjoy besting him at last."

"Good night, Professor Snape."


	8. Life Goes On

Life Goes On

The next week contained a barrage of shocks for Sirius Black. Despite his ongoing lack of interest, Harry continued to tell him everything that had happened in the years since he fell behind the Veil. The accumulated tale of tragedies began to weigh on Harry as he recited the number of deaths and horrific events. Sirius's evening visits developed into an unpleasant routine by Friday.

"We're home!" called Harry, opening the door wide enough to allow the black dog to enter and Transform.

"I _never_ wanted to be at home when I was a kid," Sirius pronounced. "My whole bloody family were a bunch of arrogant, Dark-Arts obsessed idiots. I couldn't wait to be shut of them."

"Wasn't there anything good about them? That's really sad," Harry said as he led the way into the drawing room.

Sirius looked quickly at that damned portrait, and breathed a sigh of relief that it was empty before he went all the way into the room.

"You were lucky, Harry. You had a great family."

Anger began to rise in Harry at the man's ignorance and he said, "I wouldn't know, since they didn't raise me, did they? I remember almost nothing about them."

"Your father was the bravest, cleverest man I've ever know!" exclaimed Sirius. "He died a hero, protecting his family."

The young man sighed resignedly. Reliving his past through the confused mind of Sirius Black emotionally drained him.

"Did you know my dad was unarmed when Voldemort arrived? He didn't have his wand. Voldemort thought he was a fool as he killed him."

"That's a lie," growled Sirius, a furious frown on his face. "James went down fighting courageously!"

Harry clamped his lips shut; sorry he'd said it. There was no proof, and even with proof in front of him, Sirius often refused to believe it.

"He is right, Black," said Professor Snape, strolling slowly into his frame and sitting down. "It was an ongoing source of amusement for the Dark Lord. He spoke of it at times."

Snape's face was expressionless and his voice was muted. Seeing this, Harry remembered how bitterly the wizard had spoken of his father in the past, and was amazed at his calm. The memory he had witnessed in the Pensieve never completely left Harry's mind and he wondered if Professor Snape still thought of it.

Sirius growled low in his throat at the portrait, but then he had a happier thought.

"How did _you_ kick off, Snivellus?" he asked nastily. "It must've been a good scene, since you're not back. Not like me!"

An ironic smile touched the thin lips as Snape said, "The Dark Lord ordered his snake, Nagini, to attack me. I died in the Shrieking Shack with my throat torn out."

Harry recalled the blood and the horror, the wizard's face as he died before his eyes on the filthy floor. The memories he had offered as he died, all of it made grief well up in Harry. He barely heard Sirius's cruel laughter as he looked up at Professor Snape, stricken by sorrow.

Professor Snape ignored the gleeful Animagus, reliving the last conscious memory of his physical existence. He now realized he'd mattered to Harry Potter, of all people. And, in his death throes, it was not Lily or Dumbledore that mattered. Potter was the one he had offered everything to, and the young man had far exceeded his hopes. He had thought his dying a cold thing, devoid of emotion, but he now recalled despair touched with faint hope, and his grief at a task unfinished. Potter's green eyes now showed him that he had mattered deeply, and mattered still. He nodded faintly and murmured, "Thank you, Potter."

Harry smiled, his eyes glowing with emotion as he wordlessly offered his own gratitude to Professor Snape's portrait. He was glad he had been able to be present, a witness, so the man had not died entirely alone.

Sirius sneered at Snape. "Couldn't even outrun a big fat snake, could you? Fat lot of good you Slytherins were. Look at my idiot baby brother, precious Regulus. Pride of the family, but he died in obscurity, a complete failure!"

Kreacher always stayed out of sight when Sirius was in the house. He was bitter about the presence of his hated former master, and Sirius continued to be rude and to mock him periodically. He had maintained his silence until Regulus Black came into the conversation, but then appeared instantly in the drawing room.

"Kreacher will not let you speak of Master Regulus that way!" he screamed, his wrinkled face distorted with anger.

The house-elf flung his hand forward, and Sirius was thrown onto the floor.

"Stop, Kreacher!" exclaimed Harry. "He doesn't understand what Regulus did! He doesn't know."

Sirius got slowly to his feet and glared at them.

"Disgusting rat," he snarled. "Stay away from me or you'll be sorry."

Kreacher had tears in his eyes, but he hissed menacingly. "Master Regulus was brave and kind! Not like you!"

"Bloody little beast. How dare you think you know my family better than I do?" snapped Sirius.

Harry sighed. Even now, few people knew the truth about R.A.B. But Sirius should know what happened to his brother.

"Regulus tried to destroy one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, Sirius. He saved Kreacher's life and died alone, trying to protect your family. Please don't speak ill of your brother, especially to Kreacher."

Sirius stared in disbelief, his mouth gaping. "Ridiculous."

So Harry told his godfather the entire story of Voldemort's locket Horcrux, the cave and the Inferi that had killed Regulus. He began with the story of his visit to the cave with Dumbledore.

In the silence that followed, Harry noticed Professor Snape pacing back and forth in his frame.

"Professor Snape?" he murmured.

"I did not know," he replied, controlling his expression. "A terrible waste… Regulus was so young…"

"Eighteen, and don't pretend you know anything about _my brother_!" snarled Sirius.

Snape's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he said softly, "I knew him better than you ever realized, Black."

Without another word, he strode out of the portrait and did not immediately return.

* * *

The days settled into an odd routine after that. Sirius no longer crept into the house at night, but he waited as a dog each morning to escort Harry to work. As a dog, he waited outside the Ministry of Magic for Harry to come back out.

"Potter!" called Amos Diggory, bustling up to Harry in the atrium of the Ministry building. "The Pest Advisory Board has been receiving complaints about that obnoxious dog of yours. He stares at everyone who comes in and out of the Visitors' Entrance. People are afraid they'll die after they see him. Have you adopted a bloody Grim?"

Harry sighed. He had stopped using the Floo network since Sirius had begun following him around. The idea of having Sirius try to Floo into the Ministry was horrifying, so he now Apparated to a quiet park by the Ministry. Unfortunately, Sirius learned to follow him, scaring people half to death with his menacing appearance. Occasionally he sought out the Muggle dogcatchers and led them on a merry chase through London.

"He's just a lovable stray," said Harry. "I fed him a sandwich one day and he's trying to adopt me."

"Well, would you please leave him at home? Or we could ask the Beast Division to round him up," offered Diggory. "There's something magical going on there, I don't doubt."

The temptation to lure Sirius with a roasted chicken and hand him over surged through Harry, but his inner Gryffindor couldn't do it. "He's harmless," said Harry. "I'll try to do something about him, though."

Harry was heading home and he took a deep breath, preparing to deal with his godfather. He left the Ministry and Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but as Harry headed into the alley where he Apparated home, he saw the last surviving Black digging furiously in an overturned rubbish bin.

"Sirius!" exclaimed Harry, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

The huge dog turned around, frolicked up to him and transformed.

"Finally, Harry! The rats back here are getting sneakier, and I'm starving. Why don't you come to Grimmauld Place and have a drink before you go home to the little woman?"

Harry imagined the powerful bat-bogey that would have attacked Sirius if Ginny had heard him speak of her that way. But he knew how sick she was of this unwanted guest, so perhaps this would give her a break.

"Sounds great," he said heartily, cringing inside. "I'll use your Floo to tell her I'll be a bit late this evening.

They Apparated to Sirius's ancestral home, and he flung open the door.

"Welcome back! It's good to have a little quiet time, just the two of us, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, immediately noticing a difference in the house. "Are you having trouble keeping the place up?"

The house was already looking forlorn, and a slightly sour smell permeated the air. When Harry, Ginny and Kreacher had lived there, the place had been immaculate and as welcoming as it could be. Now the draperies were all closed and when the door was shut, gloom filled the hallway.

"It's the same as always," said Sirius, leading the way to the kitchen.

Dishes were piled high in the sink, reeking of rotting food. Flies buzzed lazily over the pile. It was sickening, but Sirius seemed oblivious as he opened a cupboard and took out two battered goblets. He picked up a heavy black bottle and poured out a generous slug of thick liquid that smoked in the glasses.

"To us!" proclaimed Sirius. "You and me, Harry!"

Harry sniffed the contents of his glass, but he tossed it back when Sirius did. It burned horribly and he coughed, tears springing to his eyes.

"All right, Harry?" asked the Animagus. "You should learn to drink like a man!"

Sirius's haggard face was slightly out of focus from tears. Harry shook his head irritably and said, "It stinks in here. Why don't you wash dishes?"

"Use the Floo and tell little Ginny you'll be a bit late," said Sirius. "Then we'll go to the drawing room."

Harry started the fire and reached for the pouch of Floo Powder. He stuck his head into the green flames and was suddenly looking up from within his own kitchen hearth.

"Ginny!" he called.

"Harry, where are you?" she asked, coming to kneel before the fire.

"I'm having a drink with Sirius at Grimmauld Place," he said, smiling and rolling his eyes. "I won't be long, okay?"

A small frown wrinkled her forehead, but she rolled her eyes in return and said, "Dinner's in an hour."

"I'll be there," he told her, pulling his head back.

Sirius handed Harry his glass, which was refilled, and said, "Since you've grown so finicky, we'll get out of here."

He led the way to the drawing room, which had not been cleaned since the Resurrection Party.

"Sit down," said Sirius, gesturing grandly.

Harry magically straightened up the overturned chairs and went to the old sofa, sitting down and lighting the fire in the hearth.

"You've been back for a while now, so what are you going to do?" asked Harry.

A bark of laughter was the only response he got at first.

"Drink up," urged Sirius; watching until Harry reluctantly drank it.

"I'll do whatever I feel like doing," said Sirius, grinning at him. "I've got plenty of money, and this house isn't so terrible, now that the bloody elf is gone. Maybe I'll travel! You can come along, it'll be lots of laughs."

He refilled the glasses and fixed his eye on Harry, who obediently tossed it back, better prepared for the burn of it.

"That's better," Sirius said with an approving smile. "I'll make a man of you yet, Potter."

That seemed an odd thing, since Harry was under the impression that he was a man, although a young one. He was married, after all!

"Why don't you find a nice woman and get married?" asked Harry, realizing the room was tilted up and down alarmingly.

"Merlin, Potter! Girls ruin everything!" growled Sirius, filling their glasses again.

They drank once more, and Harry inhaled sharply. The room was beginning a slow spin and Sirius's face looked oddly distorted.

"I like being married!" Harry said defensively.

"That girl does nothing but ruin our fun. And soon there'll be a bloody kid," groused the Animagus. "You're trapped, mate."

There was something odd about this conversation, but Harry couldn't figure out what it was. It felt wrong, though, and he wished he had gone home.

"Do you have any food here?" he asked, remembering he hadn't eaten and that whatever this poisonous brew was, he was getting disgustingly drunk.

Sirius grinned, his gray eyes gleaming brilliantly. "In the kitchen. Here, let's finish this so I don't have to carry it around. There's more in the kitchen."

Harry obediently drank the last glass; in spite of thinking it was a bad idea. He couldn't hurt Sirius's feelings. Poor lonely guy…

He stood up, hoping some food would help, but his legs fell slowly out from under him. His eyes met those of Phineas Nigellus for one startling second as he crumpled heavily to the floor. Silence followed.


	9. Molly’s Visit

Molly's Visit

"Potter."

A familiar voice echoed in Harry's skull, penetrating the oblivion. He must respond, he thought vaguely, but his eyes refused to open and his body was unresponsive.

"Ummph… Urghhh…" he gasped faintly.

"Potter, wake up!" snapped the voice. "This is unacceptable."

"Dad…" whispered Harry, as his head throbbed agonizingly. "Sorry…"

There was a pause and the voice hissed, "You are indeed in a sorry state, Potter. Stop wallowing there. Your wife is brewing a hangover potion. Not that you deserve it, idiot."

Professor Snape, Harry realized, a ghost of a smile curling his lips, even though his eyes would still not open. "I'm alive," he muttered, deciding to stand up. Unfortunately, his body refused to do more than flop feebly, like a fish in a creel.

Silence followed, and through the throbbing in his skull, Harry wondered if Professor Snape had gone. He began floundering again and eventually managed to drag himself to a sitting position. He seemed to be on the couch in the drawing room, he thought. Experimentally, he forced one eye open a crack and discovered it was still night. One small lamp gave off a dim light.

He was there, his black eyes gleaming coldly and a mocking sneer on his face. If he focused on the portrait, Harry realized that the room stayed almost stationary. He wished he could remember how to talk.

"Harry, drink this," Ginny said briskly, the sound of her voice making her husband start and moan piteously.

She thrust a large goblet at him, steadying it as he raised it to his mouth. He took a large gulp and spewed it back out, thinking he might die.

Ginny snorted, "You deserve it."

Harry tried to glare at her, but he started swaying again.

"Drink it all," ordered an icy voice that brooked no disobedience.

Harry inhaled suddenly, took the goblet and began drinking, wondering if death might be preferable. The potion was thick and had a slippery quality that was nauseating. Swallowing the last of it, he fell back on the couch and felt the potion begin to permeate his body.

"Gahhhhhh…" he moaned, as life began painfully returning to his limbs. "Why did I do it?"

"An excellent question," Snape murmured. "You might ask that about many of the dunderheaded acts you've committed in your life."

His head was clearing, so Harry sat up and was able to look his tormentors in the eye. It unnerved him slightly to see that both faces wore an air of cynical amusement. But the hazy memories he retained of his encounter with Sirius made him so grateful to be safe at home that he actually smiled at them.

"How did I get here?" he asked weakly.

"You owe your deliverance to Slytherin," Snape murmured coolly.

"Phineas Nigellus saw what was happening and told Professor Snape," Ginny explained. "He came and told me what happened, so I went to Grimmauld Place and collected you."

"I don't remember any of that," said Harry. "What about Sirius?"

She gave him the casual smile that always reminded him of Fred and George at their most outrageous.

"Bat-bogey?" he asked.

She nodded and said, "It seemed like a fair payback. You're too trusting, Harry, and you probably won't even _hurt_ him the next time you see him."

Snape radiated a mild approval at her words.

Ginny smirked wryly at the portrait and then turned her attention to her fragile husband and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Slightly Crucioed and like an idiot," he replied. "I can't believe I thought I'd get out of there without a case of alcohol poisoning. And thank you, both of you. I just imagined what it would've felt like to wake up on the Black drawing room floor about eighteen hours from now."

He shuddered. Ginny noticed that his complexion was an unpleasant pale green and she chuckled.

"Why don't you go get some sleep? You're looking a bit Slytherin around the gills," she told him, holding out her hands and pulling him to his feet.

Harry nodded, giving her a cautious hug. He looked once more at Professor Snape, relaxing in his splendid chair.

"Even after you're dead, you're rescuing my sorry arse," he said ruefully. "Thanks, Professor."

"One might hope you've learned from this," replied Snape, studying him closely. "Don't make any plans for the morning. That hangover potion is efficacious, but is also the most vile and debilitating of its kind."

"It sounds like something you invented," muttered Harry.

One black eyebrow rose, but Snape neither confirmed or denied it. He nodded dismissal and Harry turned and trudged off to bed.

Ginny looked at Professor Snape. "We seem to be stuck with bloody Sirius for the foreseeable future. I'm very grateful for your help, but are we asking too much to have you here?"

"If my presence is invasive, return the portrait to the Headmistress," he said quietly.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Please, it's good that you're here, Sir. And Harry loves having you here. But I don't want to impose on you."

"You've seen what my existence is," he told her. "I can return instantly to Hogwarts if I am needed. Having this portrait here relieves the tedium somewhat."

"Please stay as long as you like," she told him. "You're actually making me sorry I was such a pain as a student. It's good for me, I think."

"Ah, really," he murmured mockingly. "Perhaps I should return to teaching, then. I might become as popular as Professor Binns."

Ginny began to laugh, imagining the portrait Professor giving detentions and taking points from a classroom full of students. She looked at him, his face expressionless, and giggled harder than before.

His lips twitched, but he merely said, "Get some sleep. Potter will be in pain when he wakes in the morning, and Dumbledore is waiting for me to defeat him at Texas Hold'em."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, smiling at him. "Thanks again."

Snape nodded and walked out of the frame. Ginny remained there, looking thoughtfully at the empty portrait.

* * *

Harry staggered into the kitchen around noon the following day, glancing cautiously around. Mercifully, Ginny was there alone. She put a large mug of coffee in his hands as he sank onto a chair at the table. The bright sunshine coming through the windows felt like a personal insult, so he closed his eyes and drank in silence.

He held out the empty mug hopefully and forced his eyes open.

"I was afraid he'd be here," he muttered.

"It'll take some time for him to get rid of those fluttering bogeys all over him, and he sleeps like the dead after he's tied one on," she replied cheerfully, refilling his coffee. "How do you feel?"

"Fragile, but I'll live."

"Good," she replied. "Mum's dropping by shortly and then we're going out to shop for baby things. Can you handle things here?"

He glared at her. "I'm not completely incompetent. While you're gone, I'll finish painting the walls in the nursery. If, I mean, _when_ Sirius shows up, he can either help or bugger off."

"That's the spirit!" she exclaimed bracingly, laughing when he winced. "Your breakfast is in the pan on the stove, when you can face it. I'm going to change clothes before Mum arrives."

She went upstairs, but Harry was still too queasy to eat. Idly, he wandered through the house and, inevitably, arrived in the drawing room. The portrait was empty, but Harry sat down on the couch facing it. A short time ago, his life had been ordinary. Now Sirius was back, trying to drag him into a weird world of eternal boyhood, cruel humor and irresponsibility. Since he first met him, Harry had loved Sirius, or loved the idea of his father's best friend and his godfather. He had dreamed of being safe and finally having a home. But Sirius turned out to be incapable of taking care of anyone. The loss of that fantasy hurt.

A knock at the door made his head nearly shoot up to the ceiling like the Deflagration Deluxe. Nervously he went to answer the door.

"Good morning, Harry," said Molly Weasley, a beaming smile on her face.

Relief flooded him and he gave her an impulsive hug.

"Thank heavens you're not Sirius!" he exclaimed. "Come in, quick. Ginny's changing clothes."

He closed the door hastily and led her to the drawing room.

"Is Sirius making life difficult for you?" asked his mother-in-law, frowning. "I could see at his party that he hasn't changed one bit."

Harry sighed. "No, I guess he hasn't changed."

The sun was shining in, making the portrait on the wall glow with jewel-like colors, catching her attention.

"Oh! What a fine painting!" she exclaimed. "Such beautiful colors. Wherever did you get such a splendid thing?"

Ginny came in and said, "Is Harry showing you the portrait? Is Professor Snape here?"

Molly goggled and said, "Professor Snape? Why? How?"

"Professor Snape's portrait is helping to keep stupid Sirius from driving us mad. He's amazing and we're incredibly lucky to have him here."

"Please spare me. I am not accustomed to excessive flattery," said the subject of discussion, sweeping into the frame with his robes billowing. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly stared into the black eyes of the wizard who had concealed himself from all of them until the moment of his death.

"Call me Molly," she choked, filled with emotion. "And thank you for everything you did. I know secrecy was essential, but your work, your life… I'm so grateful. Thank you for protecting my Ginny during that terrible year at Hogwarts."

Snape blinked at this unprecedented gratitude.

"I did what I could, and regret that it was not more," he said slowly. "I hope you have been well since I died, Molly."

"Very well," she said, smiling tremulously. "And here I thought your portrait would exist in tranquility in the Headmistress's office. How remarkable to find you in Harry and Ginny's house. Um, I doubt Sirius is pleased to see you here…"

A faint smirk appeared on Snape's face, making Molly laugh.

"How marvelous! He's always been insufferable, but he was controlled somewhat by his need to be hidden in Grimmauld Place. I shudder to think what Sirius Black will decide to do for amusement now!"

"Lucky for me, I never cared what you thought of me," growled Sirius Black, standing in the front hallway. "Delightful to see you again, Molly!"

Sirius was haggard, bloodshot, unshaven, and a few bat-bogeys were fluttering dispiritedly on various parts of his anatomy. Harry had to admire his wife's thoroughness, even as he dreaded this confrontation.

"Don't you believe in knocking?" asked Molly, eyeing him disdainfully. "Or _bathing_?"

"Mum and I were just leaving to do a little shopping," exclaimed Ginny, recognizing the symptoms of her mother's temper. "By the way, Professor Snape, you probably don't know, but Mum was the one who dueled Bellatrix Lestrange to the death that day at Hogwarts. Only a _fool_ would provoke my ever-loving mother."

She cast a warning glance at Sirius, who looked gobsmacked. "What? _Molly Weasley_ killed dear old Bella?"

Snape nodded respectfully to Molly, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

Ginny grabbed her mother's arm and began pulling her toward the door, but unfortunately they were not out the door before Sirius recovered from the unexpected news.

"What a bloody cat fight _that_ must have been!" hooted the Animagus loudly, barking with laughter.

Ginny gripped her mother more firmly and they made it out the door, albeit struggling a bit.

"Let's go, Mum. This isn't good for the baby," she exclaimed.

Molly's eyes were blazing with anger. "If anyone was coming back from the dead, why the hell couldn't it have been Severus Snape? I _loathe_ that selfish, smelly Animagus!"

As they walked away, Ginny found herself agreeing with her mother. They had been idiots as kids, but having gained some life experience, she realized that besides being an unparalleled spy, Professor Snape had been a truly good man. Sighing, she put the scene behind her, hoping Harry and Professor Snape could rid themselves of the pest quickly.


	10. Complicated

Complicated

When Ginny arrived home in the evening, she went to the drawing room and found Harry sleeping on the couch. The house seemed splendidly Animagus-free, although she needed to check everywhere to be certain. Looking over at the portrait, she saw that Professor Snape was seated at the desk in his portrait, reading a book. He glanced up at faint sound of her approach and she waved, smiling happily at him before she headed for the kitchen. Enjoying a few minutes to herself, she began heating some leftover casserole and set the table for two.

Idly, she pondered the fact that they were now three, in a weird way. Some girls would not be amused by a husband's intense and complicated relationship with a Headmaster's portrait. But Harry was happier than she'd ever seen him, even with stupid Sirius yapping at his heels. And Professor Snape… Ginny smiled, realizing how much she liked his cynical wit. He didn't intrude, but was simply there, making Harry happy. It felt like unexpectedly acquiring a really delightful in-law.

Tiptoeing so as not to disturb Harry, she went upstairs and peeked into the future nursery. The painting was finished, a light, pretty blue that resembled a clear winter sky. She smiled at the idea of poor hung-over Harry taking such pains for their baby. He'd be a great dad, she thought, glancing out the window. Then she groaned. A huge black dog was trotting toward the house. He stopped to sniff the post box and then peed on it before heading for the front door.

By the time she made it downstairs, Sirius was standing in the front hallway, opening his mouth to call out.

"SHHHH!" she hissed at him.

"Where's Harry?" he asked.

"Taking a much needed nap. Even after you tried to poison him last evening, he still managed to paint the nursery this afternoon," she snapped.

"I know he did. I helped him," said Sirius meekly.

"Really?" Her brown eyes bulged in disbelief.

"You must think I'm a real ass," he said, looking hurt.

"Um, well, thanks for helping Harry," she said grudgingly. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"If you don't mind," he replied. "I'll go wash up."

Wondering if a courteous person had been Polyjuiced into Sirius Black, she went to the kitchen and set a third place at the table. Rather defiantly she placed a large jug of pumpkin juice on the table.

"Young Mistress, is the dog man back?" asked Kreacher, looking apprehensive. "Kreacher went to help Master Harry paint the room upstairs, but the old master told him to go away."

"He's behaving himself now, so he's staying for dinner. Find something nice to eat and rest a bit," she said kindly.

Kreacher smiled up at her and said, "Be careful of the dog man, Young Mistress."

"Thanks, Kreacher," she said, smiling. "I'll keep an eye on him."

The elf slipped out of the room at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Can I help you with anything?" asked Sirius, his voice ringing with sincerity.

"I think everything's ready. I'll go wake Harry up and we'll eat," she replied.

Rather suspicious, she went to the drawing room and shook Harry awake. He seemed remarkably bright-eyed, compared to the wreck he had been that morning.

"Hey, Gin," he said, sitting up with a smile.

She glanced over at Professor Snape and said, "Okay, you two. What happened to Sirius while I was gone? He just showed up now and he's being _pleasant_!"

"I, uh, went off on him after you left with your mum," said Harry. "I was kind of upset. He apologized and helped me paint the nursery. Then he said he had a few things to do and he'd come back for dinner if it was okay."

She stared from Harry to a smirking Snape, shaking her head as if to clear it.

"Potter is giving you the abridged version," said Snape coolly.

"I'm curious, but he's waiting in the kitchen and supper is ready," said Ginny, studying the portrait skeptically.

"Enjoy your meal," he replied, his lip curling slightly.

Harry looked as though he was about to say something to Snape, but he shook his head and grinned ruefully at the portrait wizard as he followed Ginny to the kitchen.

"Harry! Have a nice nap?" asked Sirius, a jovial smile contorting his face.

"It was fine," replied Harry, wondering who this guy was and what he'd done with the real Sirius. Whatever, he hoped it was permanent.

Sirius poured out pumpkin juice, smiling gamely. He smiled when Ginny put a large serving dish of something on the table.

"It smells great, Ginny. What is it?" he asked, his smile beginning to resemble a grimace.

"It's just leftover casserole. But there's beef in it," she offered.

"I can smell it," he assured her, reaching for it and scooping at least half of it onto his plate.

She rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking and went to fetch some bread and cheese so she and Harry wouldn't starve. As the meal progressed, she wondered what precisely had caused this strange transformation. Sirius seemed to be exerting himself to be charming, with rather mixed results.

They finished up with ice cream and Sirius pushed back his chair, groaning.

"Great meal," he told her. "Ah, this is the life, isn't it?"

Harry smile at him as he rose to clear the table. Sirius frowned, but remained resolutely silent. Since they had heard enough about how unmanly it was for Harry to work in the kitchen, this was puzzling. He ran the dishwater and then set the dish brush to magically scrubbing before he sat back down.

"So," said Sirius, looking intently at his godson, "I don't understand why you want a portrait of old Snivelly hanging around in your house. I was thinking, and if that's a Hogwarts portrait, it belongs there, not here."

"Um, Professor Snape's portrait stays," said Harry firmly, waiting for the tantrum that would undoubtedly follow.

Sirius frowned for a moment, but then his face brightened. "Harry, I've missed a lot of your birthdays, so I got you a very special present. Wait right here."

Sirius went out the back door, leaving Harry and Ginny staring at each other. The door banged open wide as the Animagus returned, flourishing something large. He waved his wand toward the wall and a large painting was suddenly affixed there.

"Do you like it, Harry?" asked Sirius, beaming.

It was nearly as large as Professor Snape's but rather crudely done. The occupant seemed to be sleeping, but Harry was shocked to see his father's face there. The portrait wizard seemed to be the age at which he had died, and was therefore slightly younger than Harry.

"Ah… Gods, Sirius," he stuttered. "Where did you get a portrait of my father?"

The occupant of the portrait opened hazel eyes, looked at them and said, "Sirius? Merlin, you look terrible, mate."

Harry turned to Ginny, and she was surprised to see that he was absolutely horrified.

* * *

"It's not a _permanent_ Sticking Charm," said Sirius, smiling ingeniously. "He'll look better in the drawing room, across from Snivellus. But since you're in the kitchen, I wanted to surprise you. You need to hear James's side and realize what an amazing bloke he was."

James Potter's portrait had the Gryffindor Common Room for a background. He wore fine robes, glasses and had untidy black hair. He ran his hands over his body, looked at the edges of his frame and then stared at all of them in some surprise.

"What do you remember, James?" asked Sirius. "You died, of course, so I had a magical portrait made. This is Harry, all grown up and showing signs of dreary adulthood. I want him to know who you were."

The portrait subject looked from one face to the next as he digested this information. Gradually a knowing look came to him and he exclaimed, "Voldemort! He was coming! I remember the Killing Curse, but if Harry's alive, it means I saved him and Lily!"

He leaped up in his frame and gave a victory whoop, sending his glasses flying out of sight in bottom of the portrait.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and she saw pain in his eyes.

"Excuse me," she said softly, and having no doubt that Sirius was completely fixated on the portrait, she fled to the drawing room.

"Professor!" she gasped, stopping abruptly before his portrait.

"Is something wrong?" asked Snape, rising from his desk and coming to stand before her.

"Oh bloody hell, it's stupid Sirius again!" she snarled, stamping her foot. "Professor, he's finally realized Harry wants you to stay here, so he… Sirius…" her voice failed her from sheer fury.

"Yes?" he asked, as his eyebrow rose enquiringly.

"Sirius managed to get a portrait made of Harry's father. He put it on the kitchen wall and please, _please_, don't leave. Harry needs you. He's back there, looking sick as mud," she finished in a rush.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he absorbed this information.

"The magic that creates a magical portrait is rare. How did an imbecile like Black manage to get a portrait made of James Potter?" he asked.

"I don't know. But it looks… strange. Not like yours, although Harry's father is alive in it. He's young in it. He thought, when he saw Harry alive, that he had somehow saved both Harry and his mum… He doesn't know anything!"

"Potter will have a difficult time," Snape muttered. "Since he does not share his father's…"

He paced back and forth, his expression grim, yet far away. Finally he returned to Ginny.

"What do you wish me to do?" he asked, looking seriously at her.

Watching him, she remembered that Harry said his father and Sirius had hated Professor Snape when they were students. She didn't want it to be awful for him.

"I want you to stay here," she exclaimed.

"Perhaps Potter needs to know what his father was like," he suggested in a low voice.

She looked reproachfully at him. "I think he already does know. I know magical portraits aren't real people, but they're powerful. I'm getting to know you, Sir, and that's good. But I'm afraid James Potter will make Harry feel awful. The guy was Sirius's best friend, and Sirius wants to put the portrait in here with you!"

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled deeply and let out the breath slowly. Then he opened his eyes and said calmly, "If it is necessary, by all means put James Potter's portrait in here. I shall stay."

"Thank you," she murmured. "I'm sorry to ask this, but Harry was making peace with the past until Sirius returned. Now we have Sirius's stupid view of the past. All the stuff he thought he'd never have to deal with is right in his face. He trusts you, Professor."

She turned and headed back toward the kitchen, and thus she missed the look of surprise on his face.

Harry was staring into the eyes of his father when she returned, and silence reigned.

"Well, well, well, Ginny. Isn't it wonderful to have James with us?" asked Sirius heartily.

"Remarkable," she said, wishing knew what Harry was thinking.

"So Lily died too," said James, and his somber expression touched Ginny's heart. "I'm sorry, Harry. I tried. But no one could have stopped Voldemort. But I don't understand, did _Lily_ fight him off before she died? How did you survive?"

"No, she didn't have her wand either," said Harry heavily. "But Voldemort offered to let her live if he could kill me. She refused and when he killed her, her sacrifice protected me. His curse rebounded and I lived, with only a scar on my forehead."

"My brave Lily," said James. "I'm glad you made it, son, and glad my old mate's still alive. And who's this pretty lady? At first I thought she was your mother."

Harry heard a snort and hesitantly he pulled Ginny forward. "This is my wife, Ginny."

"I wasn't here to stop him, old friend," said Sirius. "He was as big a fool as you."

"Sirius, it's a good thing to be married. D' you mean to say that after all these years _you_ haven't tied the knot with some sexy witch?"

The Animagus shuddered. "Women are more trouble than they're worth. Harry's tied tight to the old apron strings, no time for any good old mischief."

James chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit, have you? So why am I here in a portrait? Did I go on to the afterlife? I'm not a ghost or anything, floating around the halls of Hogwarts and snogging old Myrtle, am I?"

"How can you say that?" asked Harry quietly.

"It was a joke, boy," said James. "Obviously I'm really in heaven, snogging your mum senseless, but here I'm… I don't know exactly, but it's okay."

"Anyway, you're here because my idiot godson's taken a fancy to old Snivellus," Sirius snapped. "I want him to know what a great man his dad was, and that the greasy git's nothing but rubbish."

"Shut it, Sirius," said Harry, an icy gleam in his eyes. "You don't want to go there."

"Merlin! Can you be _my_ son?" asked James, a mocking smile on his face. "Maybe Sirius was right to bring me here, young Harry. What on earth could that pathetic freak have done to impress you?"

"What do you say, Harry? Let's bring your dear old dad into the drawing room and make him comfortable. Then we'll all have a nice discussion."

"No!" exclaimed Harry, reaching for his wand. "I won't let you idiots hurt him. You don't know!"

"Harry," said Ginny softly, putting a restraining hand on his arm. "It's okay. Let him go ahead."

Harry was sick with shame, remembering that day when his own father had bullied and humiliated Severus Snape, de-pantsing him in front of everyone. "Gin, you don't know. They've been horrible to him."

"He says it's okay," she whispered. "He's a big man, Harry, big enough to take on these two. Trust him."

He did trust Professor Snape, thought Harry bitterly. But he had no faith in his own father and godfather.


	11. Harry Meets James

Harry Meets James

There was a bounce in Sirius's step as he carried the portrait of James into the drawing room. Harry and Ginny followed, and Harry went straight over to stand before Professor Snape, looking defeated and sick.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, gazing unhappily up at him. "Gin said it's okay with you, but…"

Snape shrugged and met Harry's eyes. "Expecting tragedy, Potter? The time for it is long past. This is unexpected, but your future is your own. Choose better than they did."

That implacable black stare reassured Harry, even though he knew how difficult this would be. The wizard's courage and resolution called upon his own, making Harry's chin rise stubbornly. It felt suddenly as if they were heading into battle side by side.

Sirius was attempting to mount the portrait of James directly across from Snape. He would have done better if he had not kept turning around and grinning triumphantly at the others. The result was slightly crooked.

"Well, Snivelly," he crowed, "I brought you a playmate. Since you're dead, _I_ can't have much fun with you, but you remember James, of course. He'll keep you from being lonely."

Snape studied the portrait of his old enemy somberly. "I owe you an apology, James Potter. My report of a prophecy to the Dark Lord was the reason he hunted you down and killed you and your wife. I regretted it as long as I lived. I am sorry."

Harry and Ginny gasped. Sirius goggled briefly and then advanced on Snape's portrait, his wand in his hand. His face was livid with rage. Harry promptly and silently Disarmed him, making the Animagus turn and advance on him.

"Give me my wand! HE RUINED MY LIFE!" he choked, looking quite mad.

"Excuse me!" shouted James. "I think this is about _me_, not you, Sirius. Now what did bloody Snivelly mean? I should've known everything was his fault!"

"There's plenty of responsibility for all concerned," snapped Harry quickly. "_He_ made some bad decisions and _you_ made some bad decisions!"

"Me? Bad decisions?" screamed James, radiating outrage. "It wasn't my fault! I never knew how Voldemort targeted us, but now I know. Snape wanted us all dead. Poor Snivellus was jealous because Lily chose me. She wanted nothing to do with a repulsive, greasy slimeball! She despised him, so he hated us, and HE MUST HAVE BEEN A DEATH EATER ALL THE TIME!"

James's face was livid with rage. He flung himself forward as though trying to free himself from the portrait frame.

"LOATHESOME, UGLY LITTLE GIT! _And I saved your wretched, useless life!" _he screamed bitterly.

"STOP!" shouted Harry, shooting a large burst of sparks from his wand with a small explosion.

The silence was startling. Ginny put a supportive hand on his arm, while Sirius and James stared in shock. Harry glanced at the other wall, where Professor Snape had stood motionless as the raging words had pummeled him. The portrait wizard looked calm, until Harry noticed that his thin hand was clenched into a tight fist.

"Better," Harry snapped, turning around to face the two Marauders. "Now, there's a lot you two don't know, so shut it. We'll go along better if you'll listen instead of jumping around like idiots, screaming threats and insults. I don't know why you thought a portrait of my father would make _anything_ better, Sirius, but you haven't shown me yet that you're capable of rational judgment!"

Sirius growled deep in his throat and advanced a step, making Harry point his wand.

"Stay!" he commanded. "Now, everything you're howling about happened over twenty years ago. Nothing you can say or do will change the past, will it?"

"Maybe not, but tearing that bloody ugly painting to shreds with my bare hands will make me _feel_ better!" snarled Sirius.

"Get over your obsession with destroying Professor Snape's portrait. There are powerful protections on the portrait of a Hogwarts Headmaster," said Ginny, glaring at him.

James gasped. He stared in horror at Professor Snape, still standing quietly in his portrait. "Do you mean to tell me that _Snivelly_ was the Headmaster of Hogwarts? That's the most disgusting thing I ever heard. Who decided to make him Headmaster? _Voldemort?_"

"Exactly," said Snape coolly.

* * *

Ginny laughed, and Harry could barely maintain a serious expression in the face of two flabbergasted Marauders. The room was as quiet as they could wish, broken only by the sound of Sirius panting.

"Professor Snape was spying for Dumbledore, going between him and Voldemort," said Harry, striving to emulate Snape's cool manner. "So Voldemort got him in as Headmaster, but he spent that year working to protect the students and the school. It was while I was off running around, trying to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"Dumbledore would never trust _him_," said James grimly. "Where _is_ Dumbledore? Did he die? Is that why…"

Harry turned to Snape, remembering how he'd lost it on that awful night, after the Astronomy Tower. But Snape was calm now, with an ironic smirk touching his mouth, and Harry considered the relationship between the two portraits. They were mocking and silly at times, but he had no doubt that Dumbledore and Snape were very close friends.

"Professor Snape…" he began slowly.

"HE KILLED HIM, DIDN'T HE?" screamed James, glaring at Snape in deepest loathing. "MERLIN, HARRY, YOU CAN'T BE MY SON IF YOU CAN DEFEND HIM!"

His eyes fixed on Snape's portrait, Sirius advanced slowly, growling, "They all thought I was wrong to send you to the Shrieking Shack… but it's a pity you didn't die that day."

"Shut it!" snapped Harry. "Many years have passed since you two knew anything and nothing was as simple as you think. I have a rotten headache from all the screaming. Sirius, go home! You may come back tomorrow, if you can manage to behave better than you have thus far. And not too early."

Sirius gulped, reluctant to leave, but the green eyes were icy and unrelenting.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning then," he mumbled. "May I have my wand back?"

Harry tossed it to him and he caught it eagerly.

"Good evening, Sirius," said Harry.

"Good evening," he said to Harry and Ginny. Brightening as he looked at James's portrait, he added, "And I'll see _you_ later, mate."

With a last sullen glare, he glared at Snape's portrait and stalked out the front door. Harry and his father's portrait were left staring at each other.

"High handed, aren't you?" asked James. "You should show some respect for Sirius. He's your godfather and my best friend, you know."

"I do know. Was he always half-mad?" asked Harry. "He's out of control, you know, and I can't imagine him ever living like an actual adult."

James glared, and looking up, saw Snape watching them, his expression inscrutable.

"I can't believe you have _him_ here. He's a deeply horrible person! I could tell you stories…"

"I'll go," said Snape softly.

Harry looked intently at him, hoping he wasn't hurt or mad.

"Please come back tomorrow," said Ginny, her brown eyes imploring.

He nodded slightly, glanced at each of them in turn, and then swept from his frame, his inky robes billowing as he went.

Harry turned to study James Potter. For so long he had loved and admired the idea of his father, believing James to have been wise and noble, the epitome of goodness. Now he was presented with a portrait of his father as he was at the time of his death, and the man seemed impossibly young, also frighteningly in tune with Sirius's appalling behavior. He didn't know what to say.

"Finally!" said James, looking rather more cheerful. "I never expected to be a portrait. I feel real, but I'm stuck in here. This could get confining."

"I think there's a reason why magical portraits are so rare. The Hogwarts Headmasters exist to serve and advise the current Head, and they do get bored sometimes," mused Harry. "They seem to sleep a lot too."

"Humph. Well I have you and your pretty wife for company," said James. "I think you need to get rid of old Snivelly though. Not conducive to family togetherness and all."

Harry groaned. "Professor Snape is here because I want him to be here, and he's welcome as long as he can stand to be here."

"How old are you, boy?" asked James.

"Twenty-two," replied Harry.

"You're older than I am!" exclaimed James. "And you seem twice as old."

"Thanks. We had a war, you know," said Harry. "In fact, Voldemort spent half my life trying to kill me. It wasn't fun. Not to mention living with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon until I went to Hogwarts."

"Ah, sorry about that," said James. "I didn't really expect to die, you know. I still can't believe bloody Voldemort got to us. How did that happen?"

"The Fidelius Charm was performed, right?"

James nodded.

"Dumbledore offered to be the Secret Keeper, didn't he?" asked Harry.

James nodded again, looking slightly apprehensive. "But he was old, a bit out of touch, and I knew I could trust Sirius with my life."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Did you think you could trust Peter Pettigrew with your life?"

"Little Wormtail's a harmless bloke. No one could have guessed we made him Secret Keeper!" James exclaimed defensively. "Where is he? Did he make it?"

Shocked at his cluelessness, Ginny took the opportunity to leave the room. She knew how Harry had admired his father as a kid, without knowing him. It hurt to see what he'd really been like. She found she was not terribly impressed with James Potter, but didn't want to make this harder for Harry. As she headed upstairs, she heard a howl of rage.

"_WORMTAIL_ BETRAYED US? I DON'T BELIEVE IT! BLOODY HELL!"

Gratefully, Ginny kept walking.

Back in the drawing room, Harry sighed as he listened to another noisy rant.

"We were so sure! Merlin, did Sirius know? It's like a pet poodle turned and attacked us!" raged James.

"Didn't you _know_ what he was like?" asked Harry, beginning to feel rather hopeless. "Did you ever even _think_? My mum died because you trusted those idiots. Did you really think you knew better than Albus Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore…" snapped James. "Your mother thought we should use him for our Secret Keeper, but Sirius and I talked her 'round." Smirking, he added, "She could never resist me. I hope you inherited my way with women, boy."

"I find it works well with Ginny, _my wife_, if I'm _honest_ with her," said Harry, irritated by the portrait wizard's smugness.

James hooted in response and said, "This is very interesting, but I wish we could get out of here. I wonder what happened to my cloak."

"Dumbledore had it. He gave it to me for Christmas when I was eleven, so it's mine now," Harry told him, rubbing his temples.

"Well, I s'pose I can't use it in here, so you might as well have it," his father muttered grudgingly. "So, Harry, what shall we do now?"

"I'm going to bed," Harry said. "It's getting late, and it's hard to tell you anything about what happened. We can talk again tomorrow, but when Professor Snape comes back, I expect you to act like a decent human being. I know the kinds of things you did to him when you were at Hogwarts, and I'm ashamed of your behavior."

His father's portrait glared. "How dare you judge me? Have you ever asked _him_ what happened? There were faults on both sides, and _he_ was a Death Eater, wasn't he?"

"He wasn't when he was eleven years old!" Harry hissed, his eyes blazing. "And since you were fool enough to trust your idiot friends with all of our lives, _he_ was the one who watched over me and kept me alive while I was at Hogwarts! Where were _you_ when I needed a father?"

Furious now, Harry wheeled and left the room. James Potter stared after him, perplexed.


	12. Portrait Conversations

Portrait Conversations

Harry slept badly that night, tossing restlessly and plagued by nightmares. Ginny was relieved when he finally fell into an exhausted sleep, and in the morning she slipped out of the bedroom silently. She went to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and then cautiously approached the drawing room. Low voices could be heard, and shamelessly, she stopped in the hall to listen.

"What business do you have with _my_ son, Snape? In case you've forgotten, Lily chose me, not you! And Harry's not yours, in case you need reminding of that too!" snarled James Potter.

There was a short silence before Snape said, "One need only look at his face to see the unfortunate resemblance. Did you think I would ever forget _you,_ Potter?"

"If I hadn't died…"

"Is there any point in saying_ if_? I've made peace with the choices I made. I made grave mistakes and I did what I could to atone for them. I lived, I died and my real self has gone on to wherever souls go. Nothing I do, as a portrait, can change the facts of my life. Perhaps you should learn to accept that, since Black was fool enough to make a portrait of you."

"Don't call my best friend a fool!" said James nastily. "It's not like you ever had friends."

Another long pause made Ginny wonder if Snape had left, but he spoke quietly.

"I had a friend, as you well know, having worked tirelessly to end our friendship."

"Hah! She was too good for you, Snivellus! You didn't deserve to be with a gorgeous girl like my Lily. I knew she'd unload you, it was just a matter of time before she learned what a disgusting, Dark Arts loving little git you were."

"Potter," said Snape mildly, "I wonder if you see how pathetic you are, trying to resurrect the petty grudges of your short life. There is no point. We do not matter. I exist simply to counsel and support the current Head of Hogwarts. You exist, frankly, because Black is demented."

"He's the best, most loyal friend any bloke ever had!"

"Have you any idea of the tedium involved in being a fully animated magical portrait? You are not a part of human life, yet you are sentient and possess enough of self-awareness to realize the limits of your existence. Black did you no favors."

"I'm here to counsel and support my son!" exclaimed James. "He needs his dad."

Ginny decided to cut the discussion short. It was bloody painful to hear what a mean-spirited idiot her late father-in-law was turning out to be. His blind loyalty to Sirius and his spite toward Professor Snape were utterly disgusting to her.

"Good morning, portrait people," she said lightly as she entered the room. "If you actually sleep, then I hope you slept well."

She smiled fondly at Professor Snape, eliciting a nod and a faint smirk.

"Good morning, young Jill," said James, smiling winsomely.

"The name's Ginny," she replied coolly. "Did I interrupt something? I head voices in here."

"Oh, we're just renewing our old acquaintance," James said airily. "Snivellus and I have a lot of catching up to do. Old school chums, and all that."

"Sounds fun. I'm off to make some tea, and Harry slept badly last night, so he won't be down for a while yet. Professor Snape, perhaps you'd like to check in on the Hogwarts portraits."

She winked at him, slightly ashamed of wanting to torment James a bit. But she wanted a break in the tension too, and Sirius would undoubtedly be along soon to give them more headaches.

Snape's eyes gleamed with sardonic amusement as he nodded to her.

"Give my regards to Professor McGonagall, if she's around, and Professor Dumbledore too," said Ginny. "I hope we'll see you later."

"I'm at your disposal," he murmured quietly, and then he strode out of his portrait.

"Arrogant blighter," groused James. "He used to be such a grotty little slimeball. It looks like he finally learned how to wash his hair."

"Please don't speak of Professor Snape that way," she told him.

"Why ever not?" he replied. "I knew him long before you were born and I hope he's able to stand up for himself. He shouldn't need a girl to defend him."

"Well, I knew him long after you _died_," she snapped. "He protected me when I was in terrible danger. He also protected my friends, and he's the reason there still _is_ a Hogwarts after the Dark Lord tried his best to destroy it. Not to mention that he worked tirelessly to help and protect Harry. You should be grateful to him!"

James looked taken aback for a moment, but then he laughed heartily. "Ah, you redheads! Lily was just as feisty as you are. It took me a long time to charm her into submission. Harry needs to learn that he must be the master in his own home."

Ginny ground her teeth, trying to remember that he was not actually alive, he was just a portrait, and that Harry was not inclined to take advice from this arrogant fathead.

"I think I hear the kettle," she murmured, and without a backward glance, she headed for the kitchen.

* * *

Three days later, Harry entered the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts.

"Thanks for letting me come here again, Professor," he said.

Professor McGonagall studied him, noticing his hagridden expression.

"Severus has told us about Black's mad idea to make a portrait of your father. Even now, he has no idea what he has done, I imagine."

"I can't speak freely with Professor Snape there, because my bloody father's portrait is going mad from boredom and watches every move we make," Harry told her. "I don't suppose his portrait could be placed here, where he'd have company…"

"I'm sorry, Potter. Our Headmasters are endowed with wisdom and experience that makes their counsel valuable. I believe your father's portrait would only cause dissension here."

"Headmistress, perhaps Potter's portrait could be hung up in the Gryffindor common room," suggested Phineas Nigellus innocently. "After all, in his day he was Head Boy. A credit to Gryffindor, no doubt."

A muffled snort emanated from Snape's portrait.

"Thank you for your suggestion," Professor McGonagall murmured gently. "However, there are impressionable young people residing in this school and I don't believe James Potter would be a positive influence on them."

"I wonder what genius decided James Potter deserved to be Head Boy," Snape murmured, his eyes glinting as he glanced toward Dumbledore.

"Let's not waste time rehashing the past," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I wonder if we are making too much of this. A simple portrait of Harry's father cannot be so very unpleasant. He was a daring and quite charming young man. Eventually James Potter will calm down and be a pleasant addition to the household."

He leaned back in his throne-like chair, folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes. After a moment, he began to snore gently.

Snape watched Harry's eyes narrow and his hand move toward the various breakable knick-knacks on the desk.

"Potter, ignore him. All those decades of responsibility during his lifetime have caused dead-Headmaster burnout. The rest of us cover for his occasional loopy-ness, and eventually he'll recover and become more useful again."

Harry's jaw dropped and his hand fell to his side. Dead-Headmaster burnout? He stared at Dumbledore, looking serene as his snores began increasing in volume, and shook his head in confusion. Then he returned to the subject at hand.

"I don't understand how Sirius could have gotten a magical portrait made," he exclaimed. "He couldn't have done it the way you were all created, could he?"

The myriad shaking heads confirmed this.

"When a person accepts the responsibility of becoming Headmaster, he realizes that a small part of his consciousness will be left in this office in perpetuity," said Headmaster Fortescue. "It is a duty that we accept. To have this much of one's consciousness locked forever in a portrait is not a pleasant thing, although we make the best of it."

"I don't think my father will ever accept it," said Harry. "Even when he was alive, his greatest joy was sneaking about, causing trouble. He's horrible now, in portrait form."

"Perhaps you should discover how this was done," said Professor McGonagall. "It must not be done again. If grieving people use this means to try to hold onto a loved one…"

"I doubt that Black considered what will happen to the portrait when the last person who cares for them eventually dies," muttered Snape slowly. "Although we are not souls, to be trapped in this state, forever alone, would be an unending purgatory."

Harry had not considered the full ramifications of unending portrait-hood. He looked into Snape's eyes, hoping his former teacher would not suffer such a fate.

"While you ponder a resolution to your personal problem, perhaps you should discover the wizard who was able to create such a lifelike portrait of your father," he told Harry.

Harry nodded. "I won't tell the Ministry. I can imagine a thousand wretched scenarios if I told them. I'll look in my spare time."

"Ask the house elf to search at Grimmauld Place," said Phineas Nigellus. "He knows the house better than anyone, and if there is evidence to be found, he'll find it."

"Only if I can be sure Sirius isn't home. His attitude toward Kreacher is disgusting."

"It is only a house elf," he murmured languidly. "They exist to spare us unpleasant tasks, after all."

His lip curling, Harry glared at the haughty wizard, but refrained from responding to him. Instead, he turned back to Professor Snape.

"I hate that we can't talk to you without interruption," he said. "And we feel awful, Ginny and I, that they're acting so horrible. I didn't think anything like this would happen. If you decide you can't stand it any more, we'll understand."

Snape was silent for a moment, but finally said, "It is oddly therapeutic to see them after so much has passed. I have the benefit of having life nearly twice as long as your father, and his behavior is quite pathetic. Perhaps time does not heal all wounds, but it certainly gives one a better perspective."

"Sirius is over forty, but _he_ doesn't seem to have learned a thing," Harry muttered.

"Black is a perfect example of what pure-blood obsession has lead us to," Snape murmured, casting a cynical eye toward Phineas Nigellus. "He makes one grateful to have been a half-blood."

Harry chuckled, enjoying the spluttering noises coming from the other portrait.

"If you're willing to come back, we're always happy to see you," he told Snape rather shyly.

An ironic smirk touched the portrait wizard's face. "I'll be back. Life among these, ah, august personages can be oppressive. Having grown used to being insulted and despised throughout my life, I find it an interesting change to be in the company of those two idiots. Especially since they are powerless to affect me."

"Thanks, Professor. I should go back now. When Ginny married me, she didn't bargain for a frenzied father-in-law in a frame, ranting about how bored he is," said Harry. "And she keeps trying to figure out how to get Sirius to keep from marking all the trees and postboxes in the neighborhood. It's a hopeless job, but she says it's just a matter of time before our neighbors are annoyed by the feral dog and call the dogcatcher."

The black eyebrow rose suggestively, making Harry smile.

"I know, Professor, but now Sirius is the only one that can entertain my father's portrait. Ironically, Sirius now has a real purpose."

"Carry on then, Potter. I shall see you in the heat of the battle," Snape told him.

Harry waved cheerfully, bade farewell to Professor McGonagall and headed for home.


	13. A Change for the Better

A Change for the Better

Sirius was pacing outside the house as Harry arrived home from work one day.

"Good! You're here, Harry. Look, can we talk?" asked Sirius anxiously.

Having put in extra hours in the past days, trying in vain to trace the mysterious portrait creator, Harry was in no mood for whatever Sirius thought was important, but rather than bring it into the house, he sighed, waiting for this new headache.

"It's about Ginny," said Sirius, looking grim.

"What about Ginny? Is she all right?" asked Harry, beginning to push past the Animagus and rush to the house.

"She's fine!" exclaimed Sirius. "No, don't worry, she's tougher than all of us put together. That's actually the problem. She's getting on your dad's last nerve these days. She has no consideration for him, she's actually _rude_ to him!"

"Well, if he'd stop calling her Jill, she might find him less irritating," snapped Harry. "And expecting her to kiss his painted arse and appreciate his idiotic advice isn't going to make her fond of him. Did he ever _respect_ anyone in his actual life?"

"Hey! _He respected me_!" said Sirius, his eyes narrowing in anger. "If you'd shape up, Harry, he'd respect you too!"

Harry's eyebrow rose enquiringly. "How am I supposed to shape up, in your opinion?"

"Stop that!" snarled the Animagus, his eyes bulging. "You did that eyebrow thing just now, just like _him_! Show some loyalty to your own, Harry and forget that slimy git on the wall. And get a haircut!"

Harry had discovered that, since his hair had grown so long while he hid from Voldemort in that terrifying year, the weight of it made it smoother, so it stuck out less. Also, Ginny had told him she thought his longer hair was sexy, so after that nothing would get him to cut it short again!

"I'd say you and my father should show some consideration to my wife. She's pregnant, you know, and still working. She needs rest when she's at home, and all this yammering about stuff that happened before we were born is getting on her nerves," he said firmly.

Sirius gaped at him, an odd choking noise emanating from his open mouth. "I – I can't believe this! I gave you the gift, _the gift_, of your father's portrait, so you'd see you don't need Snape around. And how do you repay me? With lectures and insults? Imitations of Snivellus! I have a good mind to take poor James home with me!"

"Good idea," replied Harry mildly. "This has all been too intense. He's getting amazingly bored. Ginny and I don't have time to hold his painted hand and entertain him."

Sirius stalked back into the house and went straight to the drawing room. Snape was present and he watched, with a sardonic smirk, as Sirius tenderly removed the portrait Potter from the wall. He shrunk the portrait and tucked it under his arm. Finally, he turned and growled low in his throat at Snape. He glared at Harry, who had watched the whole scene from the doorway, and brushed past him on his way out of the house.

"Congratulations, Potter," murmured Snape silkily. "It is not the war, but you took this battle."

Harry laughed, feeling better than he had since Sirius first showed his face again. "I haven't found anything to tell me how Sirius got that painting made, so this isn't over. But just listen to the peace and quiet! I'd like to savor it this evening, before Sirius finds another way to torment us."

"A pleasant change," agreed Snape. "But perhaps you should have a word with your wife. Black was his usual obnoxious self with her before you arrived and she was _not_ amused."

"Oh, thanks!" said Harry. "I'll see you later, I hope."

He left the room, heading for the stairs. He knew Ginny was tough, but she'd been under a fair amount of stress since the Marauders invaded her home.

"Master Harry!" exclaimed Kreacher, hugging his legs.

"Hi Kreacher. I have good news. Sirius has taken away the portrait of my father and gone back to Grimmauld Place. So we'll have a nice evening," promised Harry. "Where's Ginny?"

"Young Mistress is upstairs, having a headache," said Kreacher, his wrinkled face frowning violently. "The dog-man was rude to her, but she will be better now."

"Shall I start some supper before I go to her?" asked Harry.

"No! Master Harry must go tell Young Mistress the happy news! Kreacher will make the supper now."

The old house elf headed for the kitchen, radiating good humor. Harry magically sealed the front door and headed for the stairs once again, hoping he could help Ginny feel better. She was nearly six months pregnant, and beginning to tire more easily these days. He tapped on the bedroom door.

"Is that you, Harry?" asked his wife. "If it's Sirius, I have my wand right here and I'll bat-bogey you to death if I have to!"

Harry laughed quietly and said, "It's me, Gin. I have good news for you."

He opened the door and saw Ginny lying in the darkened bedroom with a cool cloth over her eyes.

"Oh, Ginny," he said, filled with remorse. "What can I do to help you feel better?"

"Use your best Blasting Curse on Sirius and that bloody portrait," she snapped, her voice weak but determined.

"Sirius took the portrait and headed home to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "We're safe for the time being, alone with Kreacher and Professor Snape."

"Really?" she asked, opening her eyes and smiling faintly. "You're a genius, Harry! Give me a minute here and I'll get up. Earlier I was so furious with Sirius, I thought my head would explode if I didn't curse him."

They went down to the kitchen in quite a cheerful mood, which they discovered was shared by Kreacher.

"The dog-man is gone at last with his horrid portrait!" proclaimed the house elf as he served their meal. "Kreacher will clean the drawing room so Master Harry and Young Mistress can have a nice evening in there."

"It's good to see you looking happy again, Kreacher," said Harry. "I'm afraid they'll be back again, but for now we have a break."

Kreacher grinned and left them alone in the startling tranquility.

"Have you discovered who made the portrait of your father?" asked Ginny.

"Sirius can keep a secret when he chooses to, and Kreacher couldn't find any evidence at Grimmauld Place. I tried to find out from Gringotts how much he paid, but they're not talking either."

"I had a nightmare this afternoon, that Sirius got portraits made of Remus and Wormtail," she said, shuddering slightly. "Or your mum. I think there's no limit to Sirius's lunacy."

"I don't think Sirius liked my mum," said Harry. "It's disturbing to see my dad's portrait, and I dislike him more every day. I couldn't bear to see my mum like that. There's no reason for an ordinary person to leave a magical portrait behind. Look at Mrs. Black. There's too much of her in that portrait and she went mad."

"Well, let's go enjoy some peace in our own drawing room tonight," said Ginny. "I hope Professor Snape will be here, at least for a while. I _love_ having him here. He's wickedly clever and I never have to explain a joke to him. He's always right there with me."

Harry felt a slight pang. She was so easy, so comfortable with Professor Snape, more than he could be… Still, he and Professor Snape were okay now and he still found it hard to believe their good fortune in having the portrait wizard with them. It seemed like he enjoyed visiting the portrait in their drawing room.

"Yeah, I hope he'll stay a while," he said as they cleared the table. "He's pretty amazing, being able to stay sane as a portrait. We're lucky to have him."

* * *

Harry woke suddenly in the night, remembering something he'd said earlier that evening to Ginny. _Look at Mrs. Black_… There was another magical portrait with far too much of, well, everything. Who had created her portrait? And was that what the future held for James Potter's portrait, insanity followed by the portrait equivalent of a coma? Although he disliked the presence of James in his home, a fate like Mrs. Black's was terrible to think of. He tossed and turned in the dark, pondering a way he could use this knowledge to find the portrait maker. After a long time, he went back to sleep.

* * *

"Good morning, Professor," said Harry, "I'm glad you're here. I had an idea about Sirius's illicit portrait creator."

"Really," replied Snape. "What stroke of genius has smitten you so early in the morning?"

Harry grinned. "Sirius's mum, the crazed old bag in Grimmauld Place. I think that, like my father's portrait, there's far too much of the subject's nature imbedded in it. She was probably a hateful person, but I think she was driven mad from boredom and frustration, hanging in her empty house. I wonder who created her portrait."

"Do you believe that you can discover who it was?" asked Snape, his mouth twitching. "I never used to consider you terribly intelligent, you know. How pleasant to realize I may have judged you hastily."

Harry stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "I'd never presume to your brilliance, Sir, but occasionally I can out-think a flobberworm. When I think of my attitude in your classes, I guess I can't blame you."

"Do you plan to tell me how you'll proceed?" asked Snape. "I wait with bated breath."

"My first stop will be the Ministry's Registry Office. I'll find out when Sirius's parents died. I think Mrs. Black was the last of them, so who made her portrait? Who hung it in the house? It might've been in her will, I think. I'm going to look at the portrait then, too."

"Are there any other magical portraits in the Black house?" mused Snape. "It may be an endearing little tradition among the pure-blood lunatics."

"Like beheading the house elves and mounting them on the wall," agreed Harry. "I'll need to find a way to get in the house without making Sirius think I'm apologizing. This has been a wonderful holiday from their insanity."

"I look forward to hearing the results of your investigation," Snape murmured.

"I'll be home after work. Ginny's going down to half time at work until the baby's born and then she'll be home here, taking care of the kid," said Harry. "I don't want Sirius to come back and disturb her while I'm away."

"I'll check in here frequently. Black has never given up easily, and he has nothing to lose."

"Thanks," said Harry. "I'll see you later, Sir."


	14. A Peaceful Evening

A Peaceful Evening

Harry managed a visit to the Magical Registry Office during his lunch hour and as he had thought, Sirius's mum had died in 1985, after her husband and younger son, while Sirius was in prison. He procured a copy of her will and studied it while he waited to see Minister Shacklebolt.

"The Minister will see you now," said the secretary.

"Harry! How are things with Sirius these days?" asked Kingsley, shaking hands warmly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Um, Kingsley, was he always such an idiot, back when we were all in the Order?"

"Thing aren't going well then," replied the Minister with a sympathetic smile. "You kids thought he was wonderful, but he was quite high-maintenance back then. I was surprised he lasted as long as he did, with that mad desire to throw himself into danger. I gather he hasn't changed."

"Not at all. In fact, he's done something that worries me a lot. He somehow got a portrait made of my father, that's as lifelike as the Hogwarts Headmaster portraits. I don't know who created it, but I'm afraid it's like the one of Mrs. Black at Grimmauld Place." Harry shook his head regretfully. "She became mad. Isn't there a restriction on these portraits? There was nothing in her will about it."

"Of course there is. The Headmasters exist for a particular purpose, which has exempted Hogwarts from the law. The Hogwarts process is secret. But creating one for private use is strictly illegal. Only a few wizarding institutions are allowed to have these special magical portraits."

"I never thought of what was involved in making a portrait," Harry said slowly.

"There's a long, complicated history behind this policy. If you like, my secretary will make a copy of the statute for you. The written history of magical portraits and the laws relating to them was updated about twenty-five years ago. I'm arranging for a copy of that too."

Kingsley wrote a memo, shaped it into a paper plane and threw it into the green flames of his fire.

"How about some tea while we wait?" he asked with a genial smile. "Dare I ask how Sirius's Resurrection Party went? Sorry I couldn't make it."

They sat in two comfortable chairs by the window, where fluffy white clouds meandered across a rich blue sky.

Harry winced as he recalled all the low points of that social event. "Don't be sorry. I wish _I_ could have skived off. It was appalling. But maybe Mr. Weasley told you about it."

"Arthur couldn't remember anything after Sirius put a glass of firewhiskey in his hand."

"Well, it was ghastly," said Harry. "I wish Sirius would decide to get a job, find a nice witch and settle down."

Kingsley looked rather oddly at him, but just then the door opened. The pretty secretary was Levitating a laden tea tray, and carrying a parcel.

"Will there be anything else, Minister?" she asked, setting everything on the table between them.

"No thanks, Marlene," said Kingsley. "But let me know when Robards arrives."

"Yes, Minister," she replied, and she left them alone.

They enjoyed a quiet tea, reminiscing about the past for some time.

"I guess I missed a lot of what was going on," said Harry with a rueful grin.

Kingsley set his cup down on the table and said slowly, "You were a kid, Harry. We tried to ignore that, because of the prophecy, but some of us knew what a burden you carried. You didn't need to be privy to all the wretched games going on between the adults in the Order."

"I'm just starting to realize how much I didn't understand," said Harry. "I thought Sirius was the greatest, coolest guy, but now that he's back, Ginny pointed out how horrible my life would have been if he'd gotten custody of me from the Dursleys. She's so right."

"He's not the nurturing type, our Sirius."

"No, he's a bit self-centered. Professor Snape's been incredibly helpful in dealing with him."

"Erm, Harry… Professor Snape is dead," said Kingsley, his dark eyes showing concern.

Harry flushed slightly and said, "I went to talk to Professor Dumbledore's portrait at Hogwarts about Sirius, but it's Professor Snape who's been fantastic. In fact, I hope it's not breaking any laws, but Professor McGonagall let us have a portrait of Professor Snape in our house."

"You, Harry?" asked Kingsley. "It was no secret that you two loathed each other, during the War."

"I didn't understand when he was alive, but you know what a great man he was. It's great to have him with us and if he weren't dead, I might be jealous of how much Ginny loves having him there."

Kingsley chuckled, a deep melodious laugh that was infectious. "I'd match Snape's wits against ten Sirius Blacks. Are you going to tell him about your research?"

"I did tell him what I was thinking before I left this morning, and I hope to consult with him. But I'm not doing this officially, because I don't think we should make this too big."

"Good. If you remember, I managed to do the Order's business while I was functioning as an Auror. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't report this to your superiors just now."

There was a knock, the door opened and the secretary murmured, "You next appointment is here, Minister."

Kingsley handed the parcel to Harry. "Please keep me informed," he said softly. "This should be easily resolved if you can find the portrait creator."

"I will," promised Harry.

He followed the secretary out of the office and headed down to the Auror Office, but he was itching to open the parcel and begin his unofficial research.

* * *

Harry arrived at home early in the evening and was greeted cheerfully by Ginny, who opened the door for him.

"This has been a wonderful day," she said. "Animagus-free; in fact Marauder-free."

"Any word from poor old rat-breath?" asked Harry.

"Nothing. I know it won't last forever, but this is lovely," she said. "Go say hello to Professor Snape and then we'll eat."

Harry entered the drawing room and found Snape sitting at his desk in the portrait.

"Hi, Professor. I met with Kingsley Shacklebolt this afternoon and he gave me some information on the history and laws regarding magical portraits."

He set the small packet on the table.

"Interesting. I have no idea how my portrait was actually created. The process is a secret one, somehow activated by some Hogwarts castle magic, upon the death of a headmaster. I simply awoke one day in a frame and looked out at my former office to find Minerva McGonagall sitting there."

"Ginny's waiting dinner for me, but I'll be back shortly. I can't wait to look at this stuff."

As Harry headed for the kitchen, he felt terribly lucky to have the clever wizard's portrait in his home. The Half-Blood Prince, he thought nostalgically, remembering the Potions book that had so intrigued him during sixth year. Looking back, he thought he must have been an idiot to have never suspected it was Professor Snape.

"Sirius will be back at some point," said Ginny, "but it's lovely being alone in our own home. Just you, me, Kreacher and Professor Snape."

"And baby will make five," chuckled Harry. "I haven't really been able to relax and enjoy our new house until now. It's actually very nice, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I think it's wonderful. I could almost thank Sirius for coming back and taking the moldering pile off our hands. How did we stand it so long?"

"Well, I had the mistaken belief that we couldn't move Kreacher, but he's doing great, isn't he?"

They smiled at each other as they began to clear up after the meal.

"Can your masculinity survive this?" asked Ginny slyly.

Harry finished running the dishwater without comment and then turned to hug her carefully.

"Shut it, Gin. If you want me to act like a fathead, I'll try, but do you really want to be married to someone like Sirius, or Ron?"

"Ew!" she exclaimed. "Harry, I'll puke if you ever say that again."

He kissed her lightly and said, "I'm thinking of having a manly conversation with Professor Snape about magical portraits. Want to come along?"

"You're not going to smoke manly cigars and drink brandy, are you?" she snickered. "Like at those sorts of clubs."

Harry stared piercingly at her. "_What sort_?"

"Oh, never mind," she murmured airily.

"Let's go, then. You don't want Professor Snape to get lonely, do you?"

Ginny grinned mischievously at her husband. "You know, if he weren't old enough to be my dad, and dead to boot…"

Harry's jaw dropped. "_Don't finish that sentence_," he hissed.

She put her arms around his neck, kissed Harry and said, "Don't fret, gorgeous, you're the chosen one, remember?"

She was really pretty convincing, he had to admit, as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Besides," she whispered breathily, "Hermione and I thought, ever since the DA, that you're a lot like Professor Snape, with all that brooding intensity. You're a pretty snarky boy yourself, too."

Her eyes sparkled wickedly as she watched shock flood his eyes. He flushed, and she kissed him again.

"I remember the first time Hermione said something like that," he said slowly. "It was after Professor Snape's first DADA class. I was furious, but she never hated him like Ron and I did."

"You were a dunderhead," she said. "But it's okay, since you appreciate him now and we're lucky to have him here. But you go ahead, I'll be there in a few minutes."

She detoured to the stairs, leaving Harry alone. He hesitated, still shocked and embarrassed at what she'd told him. Recently he'd found himself wishing… But he could never say it, and even thinking it felt weird, especially since Professor Snape would hate… Shaking his head resolutely, he strode into the drawing room, only to find that the portrait was empty.

Harry took the opportunity to study the contents of the portrait. The office was fully realized, and Harry could almost read the titles of the books lining the wall. It seemed that everything portrayed in the painting was real to the subject, and whoever made the portrait had known of Professor Snape's scholarly nature. He wondered where the cards originated that the portraits used to play poker. Recalling the Fat Lady and Vi getting plastered together at Christmas, he wondered if the portrait Snape had a bottle of something somewhere.

"Admiring the artistry of my portrait?" asked a familiar voice as Snape billowed into his frame.

"It's a remarkable thing," replied Harry. "Are the books and everything in there real, so you can use them?"

Snape nodded. "The early portraits have few amenities, but over the centuries the magic has offered us more in the way of distractions. Given enough time, of course, I shall have digested the contents of these, but they help to pass the time."

"How are things at Hogwarts?"

"Minerva leaves little scope for a portrait Headmaster to improve on her performance. She runs the entire school like she does her classroom," said Snape. "My only criticism is the way in which she favors the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

A slightly sour note had entered his voice and he glared at Harry, but then his lips twitched.

"It was a marvelous rivalry, in the years before you arrived. I won several wonderful wagers on those games and the Quidditch Cup looked splendid on the shelf in my office."

"With those pickled specimens?" asked Harry sardonically.

"You have no sense of artistry," replied Snape. "Ah, well, Minerva must now make some pretense at fairness, which is a hilarious thing to watch."

Harry laughed at Snape's complacent expression. "I never knew you were such a huge Quidditch fan," he murmured. "The time you refereed that game in my first year you didn't look happy."

Snape scowled. "I couldn't care less, except as a means to tweak Minerva. And that was another thankless effort to keep your risk-taking arse alive, since Quirrell was trying his best to exterminate you. I had no idea Dumbledore was planning to be there, or I certainly wouldn't have done it."

Their eyes met for a moment, and Harry chuckled.

"Well, thanks," he said. "I guess I was, erm, something of a pain back then."

Snape rolled his black eyes, but pointedly said nothing. As their eyes met they shared a rather awkward smile, but fortunately Ginny entered the drawing room, allowing for a complete change of subject.


	15. It’s Always Something

It's Always Something

"Have you found the solution?" asked Ginny lightly as she handed a large mug of coffee to Harry. "Sorry, Professor, I wish I could give you something to drink. I feel like a neglectful hostess."

"Thank you. I appreciate the thought," he replied, gazing approvingly at her. "Unfortunately, Potter has been nattering on about trivial things and didn't even open that enticing little packet of information."

"Well get on with it, Harry," she said. "When I was a kid, I was never really interested in the portraits at school, but after seeing your dad's portrait and Mrs. Black, I'm curious."

Harry narrowed his eyes in mock displeasure as he opened the parcel.

Madam Amelia Bones wrote_ Magical Portraits, Working Toward a Responsible Policy,_ in 1978. Harry remembered the witch very well, from his long ago appearance before the Wizengamot. She had been killed in the war, he remembered, which meant he would not be able to speak with her. As Ginny took the parchment so she could read the actual statute, Harry opened the book and sank into an armchair. He became immersed in the story of magical portraits through the ages.

Japheth Peverell, a wizard descended from the famous Three Brothers of legend, was said to have experimented with immortalizing magical people in portrait form. Japheth's father, Joktan Peverell, was a pureblood wizard of some renown. The family lived in a small manor house in Godric's Hollow. When the Muggle scourge, the Black Death, leveled most of his family, Joktan became obsessed with the need to protect the holdings and secrets of the Peverells. Japheth, the only surviving son, was a sickly young man, but clever and of a scholarly bent. His father gave him no rest until he discovered a way for Joktan to protect the family's holdings from beyond the grave.

Harry was dimly aware of his wife conversing animatedly with Professor Snape, but he was riveted by yet another tale of the Peverell family. He knew that in some way his father had been descended from that family, since he owned the Invisibility Cloak.

Japheth, through trial and errors that the author did not describe in detail, created the spells needed to make a magical portrait. His father then rewarded him by arranging his marriage to a young witch of a wealthy family. Domitilla was of a pureblood family and proved pleasingly genteel. They had eight surviving children who were all raised in the family home, under the eye of Joktan's domineering portrait.

Harry paused to wonder if Walburga Black had a similar desire to protect her ancestral home and its secrets. He continued reading, amazed at the tale set down by the late Madam Bones.

_Surviving records indicate that a great deal of Joktan's consciousness was imbedded in his magical portrait. A very few people outside the family were told of it at first, but in the nature of things, such a wonder could not be concealed forever. Within ten years the wizards of Gordric's Hollow had all seen and marveled at the wonder of Joktan's portrait. The news gradually spread throughout wizarding Britain, with inevitable results._

_The elderly Ariston Malfoy, of Wiltshire, was the first to publicly acquire portrait status upon his death in 1399. His larger than life depiction hung in the main drawing room of his manor house and no one entered the dwelling without his permission. After that, if quickly became a mark of status to have a patriarch preserved in a wizarding family home. Japheth Peverell became renowned for his unique and powerful secret, and exceedingly wealthy._

_By the year 1580, nearly every pure-blood family in Britain had at least one magical portrait. Some were forced to add galleries onto their homes to accommodate the huge, gaudily framed monstrosities that were designed by prominent wizards before their demise. The Peverell family became wealthy beyond any other in Britain. The secret process used to produce the portraits was passed from Japheth to his son Isadore, and from Isadore to his son Raban. But the Peverell line was failing, perhaps the result of the inbreeding that has cursed the purebred wizarding lines even into our own lifetime._

Harry was so deeply engrossed in the book that he failed to notice time passing until Ginny reached for his empty coffee mug. He looked up then, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

"Wow, Madam Bones wrote an amazing book," he said. "According to this, the secret of the magical portraits became part of the magic of Hogwarts castle by around 1600, and should no longer exist outside Hogwarts, St. Mungo's and the Ministry. The old families had huge problems with the portraits of ancestors going mad and fighting amongst themselves. Worse, families without their own magical portraits envied the privileged."

"Typical," murmured Snape. "There were once several in Malfoy Manor, according to Lucius. It was easy to see where Lucius's overweening arrogance came from."

"The magic originated in the Peverell line, but there was a generation without sons and the knowledge must have been carried into other families when daughters married. It all happened in the 1590's, and I can only imagine that the process was saved in some form, by one or more of those families," said Harry.

"Have you a copy of _Nature's Nobility_?" asked Snape. "I can think of few things more vile than research in wizarding genealogy, but it would be a profitable study, I believe."

"Poor Harry, that's four hundred years of stupidity," murmured Ginny. "There's a copy of it in the bookshelf at Number Twelve, or I think there's one at Mum and Dad's. Auntie Muriel sent it to us one Christmas. For years Ron used it to prop his bedroom window open."

"I'll see if I can get it from your folks," he said hastily, hoping to avoid asking Sirius for a favor.

"Well, I'm heading up to bed," she told him. "The longer it goes on, the more exhausting it is to be pregnant."

"I'll be along soon," promised Harry.

A sudden rapid pounding on their front door was accompanied by the voice of their least favorite Animagus.

"Harry! Oi, Harry, it's me, Sirius! Open up, boy!"

Ginny groaned and hissed, "Goodnight Professor Snape, and good night, Harry. _Please_ keep out of the bottle tonight."

She moved with surprising speed to the stairs and was gone, leaving Harry staring aggrievedly at Professor Snape.

"What the hell did I ever do to deserve this?" he asked, hastily putting his glasses on again.

"Is it necessary for me to answer that question?" smirked Snape as the pounding grew more frenzied.

"I suppose not." Harry began moving toward the door.

"Vanish the book and parchment, dimwit!" snapped Snape.

"Oh! Okay," said Harry. "I must be more tired than I thought." He pointed his wand and the materials disappeared.

Snape rolled his eyes and murmured, "I wouldn't drink anything with him. I'll be off now, to remind my colleagues that I still exist. Have fun, Potter."

Harry thought he'd probably resent it if anyone else had called him _dimwit_ in that blighting voice, but coming from Snape it created an odd feeling of nostalgia. There was a faint smile on his face when he opened the door, which disappeared at the sight of his godfather.

"Evening, Harry!" exclaimed Sirius, swaying slightly as he stood on the doorstep. "It's a full moon, in case you haven't noticed. A lovely night to come out and play, don't you think?"

"Sirius, what are you talking about?" asked Harry. "We're not children and I'm not interested in running around in the night."

"Harry, we owe it to the memory of good old Moony," said Sirius, his words slurring together. "Good times… The best times, you know. Me and James, Moony and Wormtail…"

"Why aren't you staying at home with the portrait of James? He gets bored and lonely. I thought you cared about your old friend James," said Harry, wondering if reason could get through to Sirius in this condition.

"I knew you loved your dear old dad," said Sirius with a creepy leer. "Don' worry, he's fine. Look!"

The Animagus reached inside his mangy, brown velvet suit and pulled out a golden chain. Dangling on it was the portrait of James, shrunk down to a nine-inch square.

"Good evening, son," said James coolly. "You're far too sober and serious, so we think you need to join the Marauders on an adventure."

Harry's jaw dropped and it took several tries before he could get his voice to work.

"What are you going to do?" he asked. "Remus is dead, there's no reason to run around like you used to do. This is ridiculous."

"Maybe we should play a prank on poor little Snivellus," said James. "That always cheers Padfoot up, and you haven't been very kind to him lately, have you? Then we can go out and lead the Aurors and other Ministry fools on a merry chase."

"Did Sirius mention to you that _I am an Auror_?" asked Harry frigidly. "I could lose my job if I ran around playing stupid games like that."

James sneered unpleasantly. "Why on earth would you need a job? Did you blow all the Galleons I left you? Potters don't need to work."

"I want to work," replied Harry. "And why am I standing on my own doorstep arguing with a drunk Animagus and a magical portrait? I have work in the morning, so I'm going up to bed. Stay out of trouble tonight. I don't want to be explaining your behavior to my colleagues. And Sirius, if the Muggle dogcatcher picks you up, the first thing they'll remove will be the portrait attached to your collar and the next will be your two best friends. _And I don't mean the Marauders!"_

Harry closed the door firmly in the face of the two troublemakers, who stayed out there a few minutes longer, complaining, pounding on the door and shouting. But resolutely, he headed for the stairs and went to bed.


	16. Good Morning, Sunshine!

Good Morning, Sunshine!

The night was a restless one for Harry and Ginny. They were both heavy-eyed as they ate breakfast. Then Ginny went to see if Professor Snape was in his portrait.

"Good morning, Professor," she said, brightening at the sight of the portrait wizard. "I hope you had a better night than we did."

"What latest outrage has Black committed?" asked Snape.

"Harry had to deal with him, of course. He showed up at our door last night, drunk, and demanded that Harry go out and play with him. He was shouting that it was the full moon. He miniaturized the portrait of James, hooked it to a chain around his neck and they insisted that Harry go on a Marauder adventure with them," she told him, frowning.

"Ah…" said Snape, his eyes glinting wickedly. "I see. I wondered why there were voices outside when I arrived this morning."

She stared at him, horror struck, and hastily headed for the front door. When she opened it, she gaped at the sight before her and called, "Harry! Please come, right away."

Harry ran from the kitchen, an anxious frown on his face. She was wide-eyed, staring out the door with a sick look on her face.

"Harry, what if people saw him out there? Mum's planning to come by with some baby clothes this morning," she choked. "Please get rid of him!"

Sirius and James had obviously made quite a night of it. There were several empty bottles strewn around the yard and the rubbish bin had been dragged into the middle of the garden and torn into by an animal. Harry's eye next fell on the jacket Sirius had been wearing the previous night and his gaze followed a trail of ratty old clothing to where he saw the Animagus himself, back in human form. Sirius was as unclothed as Michelangelo's David, but a far less glorious spectacle. He was curled up under a shrub, snoring loudly. The portrait lay by his side, and snores emanated from the tiny frame.

"Merlin!" breathed Harry. "Ginny, go back inside. You owe me for dealing with this alone!"

Stifling her hysterical giggles, she fled back to the drawing room to share the tale, leaving Harry to deal with the hung over and nude Animagus in his front garden. He grimaced as he Levitated the scattered clothing over next to Sirius, and spitefully, he dropped the pile on top of his father's portrait.

"Sirius! Wake up!" snarled Harry. "Put your bloody clothes on and go home!"

Sirius snored louder and as Harry drew closer, a powerful smell of firewhiskey emanated from the Animagus.

"I hope you feel horrible when you finally wake up," he whispered.

He managed to magic the ragged underwear onto the unconscious wizard and, feeling a bit better, tried again.

"WAKE UP!" he screamed, resisting the urge to kick his unwanted visitor. "SIRIUS!"

"Stop screaming, boy! There's no need to be nasty," said James, stretching and reaching for his glasses. "What is this rubbish strewn all over my portrait?"

"Sirius's clothes. Your best friend is starkers and passed out drunk in my front garden!" snapped Harry. "You two might have considered my wife's condition before you committed such an atrocity. Would you have enjoyed being puked on for your morning shower?"

"What a wretched, dull fellow you've grown up to be," smirked James. "It's hard to believe a child of mine could be so lacking in humor. Move this rubbish off of me and let me deal with Padfoot."

Harry nudged the filthy pile over Sirius, wishing fervently that he wasn't looking at the fellow.

"Oi! Padfoot!" shouted James. "Your bloody godson is about to call the dogcatcher if you don't wake up! Let's move along!"

Sirius stirred finally. He rolled onto his back and stretched luxuriantly, a sight that made Harry avert his eyes and swallow hard.

"Prongs, old mate. What a night we had," he muttered. "Why're you waking me so early? In case you forgot, I had a drink or two last night."

"You're in Harry's front garden and he's rather offended at finding a nude Animagus lawn ornament out here. It's a bore, but we should move on," said James, glaring at Harry.

"Ah, you missed a grand time, Harry," murmured Sirius, standing up and swaying dangerously. "I don't remember all of it, but I vaguely remember feeling marvelously alive."

"Put your clothes on!" hissed Harry, pointing his wand and making Sirius's trousers fly into his hands.

"Prude!" leered Sirius, studying the garment, trying to decide how it went on. Eventually he turned the pants the right way and inserted a cautious leg, but lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground, giggling madly. "I think I'm still a bit tipsy, James!"

"What happened?" asked James, trying fruitlessly to see his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes, hoping none of his in-laws would be showing up soon, since he would never hear the end of this. Glancing toward the house, he saw his loving wife watching at the window and snorted. He was doomed, he realized with resignation.

Sirius had regained his footing and his trousers, making it possible for Harry to look at him again. He'd never realized how many tattoos the wizard had acquired, and it was not an attractive sight.

"Harry, what's the problem?" asked Sirius earnestly, almost falling again as he bent to pick up his shirt. "Didn't you ever have any fun in your entire life? Don't be so sour. Your mouth is all thin and tight, like McGonagall when she used to give us detention!"

"You have two minutes to be gone from here. Molly will be arriving here to see Ginny any second, and she doesn't need to see this scene," said Harry.

It took a moment for this news to penetrate the fog in Sirius's brain, but he grinned nastily and said, "She can look, but not touch. I imagine it'll be an exciting change for a woman who's had to look at Arthur all these years."

Harry groaned, loathing the man's childish behavior. He pointed his wand and shot the rest of Sirius's belongings, including the portrait, straight at his chest.

"Out!" he snapped.

Sirius clutched his belongings to his bare chest and with a last manic grin, he Apparated away, leaving a garden full of rubbish and a completely disgusted godson behind him.

Harry sighed. He put the rubbish back in the bin, and the bin back where it belonged. Then he headed for the house, grimly determined to discover how Sirius had gotten James's portrait, and be sure that no more of these deranged portraits ever saw the light of day.

* * *

Harry entered the silent drawing room apprehensively. He glanced toward his wife with narrowed eyes, and then glared toward Snape's portrait, where the wizard wore a deadpan expression.

"Don't say a word," he warned. "I want to forget."

There was a pause, followed by a faint snorting sound from the portrait. That was all it took for Ginny to burst out in gales of laughter, which made Snape smirk nastily at Harry. That was all it took for Harry to laugh and soon all three were laughing uproariously.

"It is karma, Potter!" exclaimed Snape, wiping hilarious tears from his eyes. "I wish my real self could have witnessed it. I hope you'll be thoughtful enough to share your shame with me in the hereafter."

"I feel filthy," said Harry with a sickly grimace. "The hideous sight is burned on the inside of my eyelids. I'll be seeing it for the rest of my life."

"Poor Harry," said Ginny, still giggling helplessly. "How brilliant you are, to get rid of him before Mum arrives."

"Is it too much to ask that you not tell your family?" he pleaded, knowing it was hopeless.

"Sorry, but this infamous tale will go down in history," she said. "If it's any consolation, you're my hero."

Growing more serious, Harry reached for the book he had been reading the previous evening.

"I need to make a few notes before I go to work," he told them. "Gin, would you see if we can get your family's copy of _Nature's Nobility _today?"

"I'll go and ask Mum to find it before she comes over. Is there anything else I can do to help you today?"

"See if that Bat Bogey Hex will work on my father's portrait if they come back," he murmured, smiling as he watched her depart.

"Potter, I hope you are not suggesting that she practice on me," said Snape, his eyes glinting.

Harry grinned mischievously. "What's Phineas Nigellus doing this morning?"

Snape studied him thoughtfully. "Will you find time to work on this as well as your regular work?"

Looking curiously at his former nemesis, Harry said, "I spent the better part of what should have been my seventh year bumbling around, trying to stay alive and find those damned Horcruxes. Compared with that, most things are easy. I hope to begin working on _Nature's Nobility_ this evening. But would you do something for me?"

"What is it?" asked Snape.

"Will you talk to the portraits in Professor McGonagall's office and see what they know about their origin? Who is the oldest of them, and when was his portrait created?"

"A fascinating question. I am not sure they know much more than I do, but I shall make enquiries."

"Thanks. I hope to be home before Sirius shows his face here. If I'm not home and he starts harassing Ginny, will you please drive him away? The stress is starting to take a toll on her and I'm afraid she'll snap and start flinging Unforgivables everywhere if Sirius keeps coming back."

"_I_ cannot hex him," Snape murmured, a faint, regretful smirk on his face.

"I'm confident that you'll think of something," Harry told him, smiling ironically. "I'll see you this evening, Professor." He strode briskly from the room.

Professor Snape watched him go, his face carefully expressionless but his eyes glittering brilliantly. After a few moments, he picked up his wand from the desk behind him and swept out of the portrait without a backward glance.


	17. The Potters Make Plans

The Potters Make Plans

Ginny arrived home early in the afternoon after a very short workday and went to make a cup of tea. She was preparing to leave her job soon and unsure how long it would be before she could go back. Her mother had schooled every one of her children at home until they went off to Hogwarts, an immense undertaking. In this case, there would only be one child, but she wondered if it would bore her to be home alone with a child. She loved her work and the stimulation of being with co-workers. But with every tiny nudge and movement within her, Ginny became more aware of what it meant to be a mother. She hated feeling so unsettled, and sighing, went to see if Professor Snape was with them.

"Good afternoon, Ginny," said Snape, sitting at the desk in his portrait, quill in hand.

"Hi, Professor. I hope you've had a good day," she said, smiling fondly at him.

"I spoke with my fellow portraits today and I'm almost finished recording what I learned. It was an interesting discussion."

"That's great. I suppose you should wait for Harry to get home before you dish the whole story," she said, sinking onto the couch and putting her feet up. "Ah, that's better. While I hate the idea of leaving work soon, once I get home and put my feet up, it can't come soon enough."

"I hope your pregnancy is progressing well," he said, studying her with a professional air.

"I'm fine, but now that it's really happening, I wonder if I'm mad to become a mother," she told him. "It seems so _real_, and I don't want to bollix it up."

"Perhaps you should speak with your own mother about this. She seems to have managed quite well," he murmured slowly.

She frowned slightly. "That's the problem. She's the ultimate mum, absolutely the best, and I don't think I can live up to that. But I don't want her second-guessing my stupid decisions. I want to get this right by myself!"

"Ah, I see. In fact, with no prior experience and at the advanced age of twenty-one you expect to make no mistakes?"

There was an ironic smirk on his face that made her scowl briefly, but thinking on what he'd said, her lips twitched with reluctant laughter.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. "You seem to think that's not realistic, I see."

He maintained a tactful silence that had the result of making her giggle.

"Were you able to find _Nature's Nobility_?" he asked.

"Yes. A bit water-damaged from propping the window for years, but still readable. I left it in the kitchen. It's huge, with pedigree charts and dreadful fine print. Poor Harry will hate it."

"Have you no interest in it? Your own family history must be included in it, in exquisite detail."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Who cares? I'm delighted this child will have Harry's wonderful mongrel heritage. The more I see of Sirius, the more I realize what a good thing it is to stay away from those high and mighty families."

"I suspect that your ancestors must have married Muggleborns or Muggles at some point in time," he replied. "Your family is too sane and healthy to be truly pure-blooded, whatever that book tells you."

"I hope so. I'm a bit curious about how they managed it, but more concerned about this new twig on the family tree. Sirius yammers constantly about naming the kid James Sirius Potter. I really hope it's a girl, so I can dodge that hex."

"Have you chosen names?" Snape asked.

"Well, we haven't told anyone in my family. If it's a girl, of course her name will be Lily," she told him. "That was the easy one. We were going to call him Fred if he's a boy, but George's wife just had a baby and they named him Fred. So we're discussing it again and frankly hoping for a girl."

Snape's eyes had softened when he heard the name they had chosen for a girl, but he collected himself before replying.

"Don't allow that lunatic Animagus to nag you into a decision," he said lightly. "In the meantime, however, it is necessary to prevent Black from creating more portraits. It seems that one may not be enough for a madman who was part of a gang. I fear a Lupin portrait may be next."

Ginny pictured a drunk, nude Sirius romping in their garden with a collection of portraits egging him on to greater excesses, and she shuddered profoundly.

"I'm going to get supper started now, so Harry can get right to work after he eats. I'll see you in a bit."

"I'll be here," he assured her.

* * *

That evening resembled a study session combined with a gossip fest. When Harry arrived home, he and Ginny ate a hasty dinner and they adjourned to the drawing room, where they found Professor Snape working at his desk again. He looked up when they entered the room.

"Good evening, Potter," he murmured. "I trust you had a productive day."

"Being an Auror in the post-Voldemort period is not terribly exhausting," Harry said. "I'm not sure this was the best career move I could have made, but enough of that. Did you speak with the other portraits?"

"I did. It was an interesting experience, since many of the oldest portraits are largely uninterested in this current age, and extremely difficult to rouse. I did find, in rather obscure corner of the office, the oldest existing portrait."

"Who is it?" asked Ginny eagerly.

"Brennus Lucius Prince. He was the Headmaster from 1587 until his death in 1605," replied Snape, a faint look of distaste on his face. "He married the youngest daughter of the last male Peverell, named Septima. One must assume that she knew the family's secret of creating living portraits."

"What is he like?" asked Harry, having noted Snape's expression.

"Among the Head portraits he is reclusive and has not spoken at all during my time in the office. I suppose it is ironic for me to say it, but he is quite detestable."

Snape paused as though considering his words, but then said, "He will not discuss the origin of his portrait, but he claimed to have originated the Hogwarts castle magic that made a Headmaster's portrait unfailingly appear upon his death. He was deeply involved in some most appalling Dark magic."

"Wow," Harry murmured. "Um, is he related to you, Sir?"

"Regrettably, I believe he must be," he replied with a slight frown. "One cannot choose one's ancestors, but even knowing that, it was disconcerting to speak with him."

"Well, I doubt that he was connected with the Black family," said Ginny bracingly.

"No, Ginny, we're talking about centuries," said Harry. "We're probably all connected to each other in some way."

Startled, she said, "I hope the baby isn't born with two heads!"

Snape smiled slightly. "Don't worry. You two are not closely connected. The main risk for your child is that he will be a dunderhead, like his father."

"Thank heavens for that," she exclaimed cheerfully. "Now, can you two be serious?"

Harry sighed. "What we're looking for is so small, a connection between Sirius and the mysterious portrait creator that made the portrait of my father. It shouldn't take all of this work."

"Still attempting to skive off?" asked Snape. "Occasionally research pays off with remarkable results, no matter how pointless it seems at first. And the exercise itself is a worthy endeavor."

Ginny had seated herself and was browsing through the massive tome.

"There's a section on the Prewetts. Mum's the last of them, since her brothers were killed…" she said softly. "Aha, their uncle, Ignatius, married Sirius's Aunt Lucretia, although they had no children."

Harry began reading over her shoulder. "The Prince family is next, Professor…"

"Since my mother was the last, there is no one who might be connected with the portrait," said Snape. "Perhaps you should check your father's family. Although your name lacks a noble sound, you inherited one of the Hallows. So there may be something there."

Harry flipped back a couple of chapters and found the one titled _The Potters_. Since the book had been published before his birth, he was pleased to see that there was nothing about him in it. He began to read aloud.

"_The Potter family is of relative recent origin, so cannot be considered one of the highest and most noble of wizarding families. However, their fortuitous connections in the past few centuries have allied them with families of some renown, so that they are in fact worthy of inclusion._

_The first Potter to be found in wizarding records is one Jacob, who married Crescentia Prince Rosier on 31 October 1605. Jacob Potter's place of birth is unknown, but he was twenty years old when he married the widow of Caratacus Rosier, who was thirty-nine years old. The marriage produced the following offspring:_

_Shamgar Potter, 1606-1699_

_Gershon Potter, 1607-1648_

_Elon Potter, 1609-1703_

_Claudia Potter, 1610-1701_

_Crescentia Potter died in childbirth in 1610. Jacob Potter married again in 1610, to Zosime Gaunt, 1596-1689._

Harry set the book down and looked at Professor Snape. "Jacob Potter had nine daughters with his second wife and died in 1637. I guess that means we're related."

"Don't flatter yourself," Snape murmured with a smirk. "Given the number of centuries that have passed, you are probably more closely related to Draco Malfoy. Besides, I wouldn't be so hasty to claim a relationship with Brennus Prince."

Ginny had picked up the book and was flipping through it.

"How funny! There's a Fletcher family listed here. I wonder if Mundungus is listed here. HA! He is!"

"The title is more completely nonsensical if Mundungus Fletcher is considered 'nature's nobility,'" Snape sneered.

Harry smirked ironically, sharing the opinion.

"He's connected with both of you," she said. Wilkie Fletcher is first mentioned when he appears, seemingly out of nowhere, to marry the widowed Eunice Gaunt Prince in 1526. Wow! She was Brennus Prince's mother!"

"The family tradition of keeping one's eye to the main chance seems to have carried on from the founder," said Snape. "On the other hand, for one descended from long lines of haughty pure-bloods, the thief is an object lesson. Perhaps Headmaster Prince would enjoy meeting his descendent…"

Harry imagined Mundungus fingering the gilded frames and struggling to stash Hogwarts Headmaster portraits into a grimy satchel. "I can imagine Professor McGonagall hexing him out of the office after he fills a sack with her possessions."

"This book will take ages to digest and I don't know how much it's going to help," said Harry with a frown. "We need to do more."

"Well, if you'd like, I'll go through the book and make notes of what seems relevant," offered Ginny. "I think it's fascinating."

Snape smirked approvingly at her before turning to Harry. "What do you think will help?"

"I have an idea," said Harry. He turned toward the kitchen and called, "Kreacher!"

The ancient elf entered the room and said, "What can Kreacher do for Master Harry?"

"Do you think you can follow Sirius without him seeing you? I want to know where he got that portrait of my father, so I want to know if he goes out and who he sees," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Of course Kreacher can do it," he said eagerly. "Kreacher wants no more pictures of mad wizards and will tell Master Harry where the dog-man goes."

"Thank you, but come back and rest sometimes, and to tell us you're okay. Take care of yourself, Kreacher," said Ginny firmly.

"Young Mistress is very kind to Kreacher, but Kreacher will not fail Master Harry."

"Do you still have ways into the house?" she asked.

"Old Dog-Master has put wards on the doors and windows, but Kreacher can still use the underground passage into the gallery of mad pictures," he told her.

"_What gallery of mad pictures_?" choked Harry, staring from one to the other of his companions.

"The old, old ones," replied Kreacher anxiously. "They is the ones that hung in the hallway before Old Mistress. When a new portrait came to the house, the old ones was put away by house elves, in deepest secrecy. But Kreacher was sworn not to tell and now must punish himself."

Harry put a gentle hand on the house elf's scrawny shoulder. "_Do not hurt yourself_! By telling us, you've helped us enormously. Thank you, Kreacher."

The elf beamed up at Harry, who beamed down at him.

"Anyway, please go and keep an eye on the, um, Old Dog-Master for us, and tell us if he goes anywhere."

Kreacher disappeared instantly, leaving a portrait and two bemused humans behind him.

"This likely explains where they went," said Snape. "And somewhere in the Malfoy house is likely a collection of mad, utterly repulsive portraits. Not to mention other old wizarding estates."

"Merlin," breathed Harry. "I wonder if they've been advising and dictating to their families over the centuries. Imagine dear old Mother Black and her ancestors driving generations of inbred Black descendents mad for centuries."

"The laws against creating these portraits for private purposes must have been made in response to this, although it's not spelled out in the statute," said Ginny. "I suppose Ministry officials believed that describing the process and the result would be enough to make more people want them."

"Black must not be aware of the secret gallery, if he left an opening that the house elf can use," said Snape.

"Well, we need to create a distraction, so I can visit the secret portrait collection," said Harry. "Gin, what if we invite Sirius to dinner tomorrow evening and then I'll send a message, saying I've been delayed at work."

Her lip curled slightly. "If Professor Snape will be here for moral support, I'll try to get through it. But you're asking a lot."

"Invite Ron and Hermione," he suggested. "If you explain that it's important, they'll stand by too."

"Have I agreed to take part in this Gryffindor reunion?" asked Snape coldly. "I cannot imagine many more unpleasant evenings than the one you're planning."

Harry grinned wryly. "It's for the greater good," he murmured suggestively.

"_I despise those words_!" snapped the portrait wizard, pointing his wand at Harry and snarling when the hex created a harmless flash of light, rather than hitting his target.

Their eyes met, and Harry saw a flash of reluctant humor in the black eyes.

"Perhaps this is the best way for us to interact. I am immune to shattering teacups and you are immune to my spells."

"You can tell them all what a dunderhead I was in Potions, before dinner," Harry offered. "I never told them about the grade you gave me on my moonstone essay in fifth year."

Snape paused, smirked and then said mildly, "You deserved it."

"I know," replied Harry, grinning wryly. "I did think it was pure spite at the time, however."

"Nitwit," Snape said, a reminiscent gleam in his eye.

"Vindictive bully," replied Harry softly. "So will you stand by tomorrow?"

"Very well. I look forward to exposing your abysmal ignorance as a youth."

Ginny watched this remarkable interchange fondly. The two of them were having a wonderful time together and she hoped Professor Snape's portrait would stay with them forever. She sighed in a long-suffering manner.

"I'll send owls to our guests then," she said. "If I beg and plead, Ron and Hermione will come and if I tell Sirius we're having roast chicken, I know he'll be here."


	18. James Meets Harry’s Friends

James Meets Harry's Friends

"I can't believe Sirius is turning out to be such a total git," said Ron as he was ushered into the Potter home the next evening.

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and snickered.

"Ron, remember that book you read about how not to be a jerk with girls?" asked Hermione, her eyes twinkling.

He blushed and said, "That was ages ago, Hermione! I'm _not_ an insensitive idiot any more…"

"Well, maybe you should dig out that old book and give it to Sirius. Not to find a girl, but to figure out how not to be a complete boob!" snapped Ginny. "Besides, it goes deeper than simply appalling manners. He's a selfish, arrogant idiot. Do you remember the recent Resurrection Party you attended? Fifty kilos of undercooked chuck roast, oozing blood on the kitchen table."

Professor Snape remained silent, merely watching his former students. He believed Weasley thought he was merely an ordinary magical painting, and although the young man had given the portrait a strange look, he had said nothing. He controlled his expression sternly.

"Well, it was a bit wild," replied Ron. "But he was just back from the, erm, dead, or whatever you call that trip behind the Veil. He must be settling down since then. So, where's Harry?"

The young women exchanged a knowing glance.

"He's been delayed a bit, a meeting with the Minister," said Ginny firmly. "I'm glad you two are on time, so I don't have to deal with Sirius alone. And I'm afraid he won't be alone, either. There's something I need to tell you…"

A thunderous pounding on the door announced the arrival of the guest of honor. Ginny groaned and went to answer the door.

"Good evening, my gracious hostess," exclaimed Sirius, beaming brightly at her. "Something smells delicious!"

The Animagus wore another vintage 1970's suit, most unfortunately of brown corduroy, and the portrait of James Potter dangled from the gleaming golden chain on his neck.

"Come in, Sirius," she said politely, gesturing him inside.

"Aren't you going to say hello to your Papa-in-law?" he asked.

"I thought he must be too seasick from bouncing around on that chain," she said. "Hello, James Potter."

"You should call me Dad," he said, glaring at her.

"I have a dad already," she said. "A perfectly adequate one."

"Harry should call me Dad," he snapped.

"Take that up with him. Now, Harry's running a few minutes late, but my brother Ron and his wife Hermione are here. They've been Harry's best friends all through school, so try to make a good impression on them."

Without another word, she led the way into the drawing room. Sirius glared first at Snape's portrait, where the wizard remained expressionless, but Ron's greeting distracted him.

"Hey, Sirius. Good to see you again!" the younger man said cheerfully. "That was an interesting party you had. How's it going these days?"

"Ron, old buddy. Let me introduce you to my old best friend. This," he said proudly, holding up James's miniaturized portrait, "is James Potter."

Ron stared at the image in the little portrait. "Merlin's rancid breath! He looks just like Harry used to. But he can't be…"

"Real?" asked James acidly. "I'm more real than you can possibly know, Ginger. So you're my boy's best friend. Are you as dreary and prematurely mature as he's become?"

Hermione gasped faintly and looked at Ginny.

"Sirius had a special portrait made of Harry's father," said Ginny with a brittle smile.

"I had to do something, what with bloody Snivellus lording it over there on the wall, teaching Harry to hate his own dad and godfather," Sirius declared, glaring again at the portrait on the wall. "Something wrong, you old git? Say something!"

Snape sneered and murmured, "Still no sense of decorum, Black?"

Ron's jaw dropped. "Holy Merlin's arse!"

"Close your mouth before flies enter it, Mr. Weasley," said Snape smartly. "Good evening, Miss Granger, or shall I say Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione made several abortive attempts to speak before her voice worked. "Professor Snape… I don't believe it. You _must_ be a Hogwarts portrait. What are you doing in _Harry's_ house?"

The black eyes gleamed wickedly as he studied his former students. "Remedial Potions, perhaps?"

The gobsmacked expression on her brother's face made Ginny begin to laugh. She enjoyed the fact that Hermione looked nearly as stunned as Ron, for that matter.

"We're honored to have Professor Snape visit with us here," she murmured gently, her eyes flashing mischievously to his.

Sirius snarled at the portrait and, removing James's portrait from the chain, he enlarged it and place it back on the wall across from Snape.

"Much better!" he snapped.

Ron and Hermione looked perplexedly at each other.

"Um, Sirius, Headmaster's portraits are something special at Hogwarts. How on earth did you get one of Harry's dad?" asked Hermione, staring intently at him.

A secretive leer was his only response. Ginny had held her breath, wondering if it could be so easy.

"That's my little secret," the Animagus finally said. "Anyway, you two should get to know James. He's the best mate a man ever had. Maybe you can get Harry to appreciate him more."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Ron. "Harry always bloody worshipped his dad back in the day, like he was Dumbledore and Merlin all rolled up in one!"

"HA!" growled James. "I don't believe it! My poor little son walked into Hogwarts and fell under the dark, greasy spell of that Dark Arts loving git. He must've followed him around like a bloody puppy dog, the way he's turned into Snivelly junior. Have you seen him lately? That hair!"

Hermione snorted, and glancing at Snape's portrait, she saw his lips twitching.

"Did you _ask_ Harry why he's let his hair grow longer?" she asked James. "Not that it's any of your business, of course."

"Ah, but in the tiny mind of James Potter, everything is his business," murmured Snape coolly.

Sirius drew his wand and advanced on Snape's portrait, growling low in his throat.

"Don't you insult my friend, you miserable wretch," he whispered, his face white with rage.

"I don't believe I have to," said Snape. "His behavior is often so appalling that he insults the rest of us with it."

"Ah, how lovely to be home at last, to be spending time with my nearest and dearest," proclaimed Harry sardonically as he strode into the room.

Ginny noticed that he was unusually pale, and his green eyes glittered oddly, belying his genial smile as he stepped between Sirius and Professor Snape's portrait.

"Harry, how lovely that you're home," she exclaimed, going to kiss his cheek and look worriedly into his eyes. "Ron and Hermione have just met your father's portrait. They're thrilled to see Professor Snape too."

Harry looked over to where Ron and Hermione were watching the whole scene with matching looks of horror.

"Ron's always been especially fond of Professor Snape, of course," he said pleasantly. "Hermione, I hope you won't pester the poor fellow with questions about your third year Potions grades."

A snort from the portrait behind him brought a real smile to Harry's eyes briefly, before he turned to his father's portrait.

"I hope you're well," he said to James. "Sirius, I hope you brought your appetite, since Ginny's in a flesh-cooking mood. For once, I hope there'll be nothing to complain about."

"Harry, I never complain," Sirius said, looking hurt. "I'm sure everything will be excellent."

"If you'll excuse me, I should finish in the kitchen. Dinner will be ready in five minutes," said Ginny, fighting the urge to Apparate instantly from the tension-filled drawing room and walking slowly away.

"Do you need any help?" asked Sirius anxiously. "Just say the word and we'll send Hermione to you!"

"Thank you, Sirius," Ginny murmured gently as she disappeared.

Harry had gone next to Hermione and gave her a hearty hug.

"Thanks for coming," he breathed. "We need to talk after Sirius has left."

She was startled at the urgency in his voice and his barely disguised tension. "It's lovely to be here, Harry," she said warmly.

"Come over here, Harry," said Ron. "I want to see how much you really look like your dad. People always said that about you, but I don't see all that much of resemblance, now I look closer."

He had been staring curiously at James Potter, who glared haughtily back.

"Are you implying that I'm not his father?" he snapped. "I guarantee you that Snivellus can't possibly be his dad."

"Sirius, your friend is making an arse of himself, not to mention insulting my mother. Please tell him to be quiet," said Harry icily.

"Hey! Ron started it!" Sirius snarled, going to stand protectively in front of the scowling James. "And I'm glad you admit that the idea of her looking twice at Snape is an insult to her!"

Harry flushed and opened his mouth, glaring furiously, prepared to give the morons his real opinion. However, that was not why he had lured them to his house for dinner. He closed his mouth slowly and simply shook his head. He glanced apologetically over at Professor Snape, finding his expression to be impassive as ever, and got a faint nod from the wizard.

"Dinner's ready," said Ginny brightly, from the doorway. "Come and eat!"


	19. Dining With Sirius

Dining With Sirius

The meal was interminable, Harry thought, finding it difficult to eat anything. He needed to speak with Professor Snape, but he needed to do it alone, without interruption. So he steeled himself and put on his best genial host persona, wondering if he could possibly be fooling any of them.

"So how are things going, Sirius?" he asked, striving for a friendly tone. "What have you been up to lately?"

Sirius took a swig from the flask he now carried, having found no takers for the bottle of firewhiskey he had offered.

"Well, I've been trying to find a nice place for James to stay, so I've put him in a different room every day to see what he likes. It's wonderful to have him back, but I wish he weren't stuck in that frame. There's so much we could be doing together."

"Aren't you going to get a job?" asked Hermione curiously. "You could be doing something to make our world better."

He smiled condescendingly. "Always the earnest little do-gooder, aren't you? I'm not suited for the daily grind. But if we ever have a war… I think my skills are best suited for fighting evildoers, really."

She glared at him. "Considering that your late cousin had very little trouble blasting you into the Veil, I'm not sure you're terribly well suited for fighting evildoers. Besides, who are these supposed evildoers? Who do you consider evil, anyway?"

He frowned at her and said, "Dark Arts practitioners, of course, and Snivellus. But since Voldemort's big worm took care of _him_, it seems I have some time to kick back and relax. I haven't had very much time for fun in my life, you know."

Harry's head was beginning to throb as he listened to the Animagus's blather. No wonder he'd thought Sirius was wonderful, when he was thirteen. The guy was still acting like he was a thrill-seeking teenager, in spite of the straggling grey strands in his hair.

"More chicken, Sirius?" asked Ginny, offering the large platter.

"Thank you," he said, unloading all but one straggling chicken leg onto his plate.

Ron watched his actions with a discouraged sigh, making his sister chuckle and pass him the potatoes.

"I've thought of becoming an Auror, of course. With my experience I could probably step in and run the office. What do you think, Ron?"

Ron choked on a large mouthful of potatoes, and took a hasty swig of pumpkin juice. "You can't just decide to be an Auror, Sirius! We went through years of training, and you need a solid background in DADA, Potions… Everything really."

"No one would bother looking at my grades from Hogwarts after all this time… Mercifully… But my life experience should count for something, don't you think? I've spent my whole life fighting against evil, you know. I was a respected member of the Order the first _and_ second times. I nearly died for the cause again and again!"

A thunderous silence followed this pronouncement. Everyone found something on his or her plate to concentrate on until a few moments had passed.

"We should go back to the other room, if everyone's finished," Sirius exclaimed hastily, as he dumped a few uneaten pieces of chicken into his jacket pocket. "Jamsie gets lonesome if he's left alone too long, and he hates being left alone with old Snivelly."

The rest of them looked resignedly at the remaining food on their plates, but they all stood up and prepared to follow Sirius.

"I'll make coffee and join you in a few minutes," Ginny said hastily.

"I'll help," said Hermione, beginning to gather the dishes.

"Excellent! Then I won't be treated to the spectacle of my godson putting on an apron and behaving like a woman," said Sirius. "Come on, blokes!"

The door swung shut behind them and Hermione turned to Ginny.

"I have some explaining to do, I know," hissed Ginny. "But we have to get in there. Harry's having a rough time and even though Professor Snape's incredibly patient, he gets tired of taking crap from those idiots."

"_What is Professor Snape's portrait doing in your house, Ginny? Is this legal?_" asked Hermione.

"It started after Sirius returned. The guy's such a loon you wouldn't believe it. Harry went to Hogwarts, to ask Dumbledore what to do about him, but instead, he and Snape got to talking. I don't know exactly what happened, but Professor McGonagall offered to let Professor Snape have a portrait here too," said Ginny hastily, magically assembling a tray with coffee and biscuits.

"Incredible," said Hermione. "_Professor Snape's_ helping Harry?"

"You remember the real story about him. He's an amazing guy. Harry's incredibly happy he's here. But don't say too much. They like pretending they still loathe each other."

"But… I can't believe there's a portrait of Harry's dad. He seems to be kind of…"

"Awful? Yeah. I hope he wasn't always so bad. I can't imagine why Harry's mum married him if he acted like this in school. Without her around, I think he just acts like a Marauder all the time."

"Let's go. Harry seemed upset about something," Hermione said, leading the way into the drawing room.

The drawing room was noisy when they entered it, but Ginny's eyes went to Harry, who was sitting in the armchair nearest to Professor Snape's portrait. His green eyes were far away and he was oblivious to what the others were saying.

She put the tray on the coffee table in front of him, saying brightly, "Coffee anyone?"

He startled, and she whispered, "I'll plead pregnancy exhaustion so they'll leave right after this."

"Please," he replied, smiling at her. "You're amazing."

She nodded and handed him a cup of coffee, then turned to the others.

"Who'd like coffee?" she called, and the male voices grew silent.

"That's thoughtless of you, Jill," said James coldly. "You know that I can't eat or drink anything."

"I'm sorry. Since Professor Snape is so good about it, I didn't realize you'd be upset. Everyone, let's go back to the kitchen."

"No!" James shouted. "You can't leave me alone here with Snivelly. Did you know I don't have a wand in here and he does? He's going to attack me the minute you leave."

They all looked at Snape, relaxed in his throne-like chair. He lifted his empty hands for inspection and shrugged.

"It's over on the desk," he said lazily. "I have no objection to you eating or drinking in here, but if you prefer to leave, I shall promise to refrain from attacking Potter."

Sirius stomped over and glared at him. "Don't you dare attack my friend!" he huffed.

"_What did I just say_?" asked Snape softly. "I thought it unbearably frustrating to teach _these_ young dunderheads, but you must have been the most arrogant, inept boob ever to strut the halls of Hogwarts."

Harry snorted softly, and Ginny was pleased to see him perk up slightly in response to Professor Snape's delicious insults.

"Here or in the kitchen doesn't matter to me, but we're calling it an early night," said Ginny firmly. "I'm worn out from being pregnant, and the rest of you all have work tomorrow, bright and early."

Sirius and James stared at her as though she'd begun to speak Mermish.

"Coffee, Sirius?" offered Hermione, determined to help see the odd social event to a close.

"Never touch the stuff," pulling out his flask and taking a hearty pull from it. "Dinner was quite tasty, but if you worthy souls are all heading off to bed soon, I'll take my leave. You ready, mate?"

"Definitely," snapped James. "It was a pleasure to meet you, young Weasley, and if you like, I'll tell you more about Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup when I led the team."

"Nice to meet you," said Ron, glancing nervously at Sirius. "I'll see you 'round sometime too, Sirius."

"Absolutely," the Animagus said, beaming at him. "You have real possibilities, young Ron. Perhaps Saturday we should head out for a bit of Marauder nostalgia."

Using his wand, Sirius performed the Shrinking Charm on the portrait and hung it back on his neck chain. He was oblivious to the nasty glare Hermione was directing at him.

"Ta, Ginny! See you all later!" he caroled. "Don't get up, I'll let myself out."

The sound of the front door crashing shut brought Harry to his feet. He went to the front hallway, assured himself the Animagus was gone, and cast a locking spell on the door. He returned to the drawing room and Levitated a footstool over to where Ginny was sitting on the couch.

"You're fantastic, Gin," he said softly. "Do you really need to go to bed?"

"Nah," she replied, smiling at him as she put up her feet. "I couldn't have stood five more minutes of Sirius, so I lied."

"Brilliant," said Harry. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Sorry about inviting you to such a horrible meal. Do you two need to escape after visiting my personal hell?"

"You've been busy, haven't you?" said Hermione fondly. "We're in as usual, right, Ron?"

Ron grinned. "We are, but if this isn't an official investigation, I wonder if I should arrest you, Harry…"

"It's not official, but Kingsley knows. And Professor Snape's here by permission of Professor McGonagall. And if you try to arrest me, I'll hex you into tomorrow," Harry chuckled.

"Well that part's a bit odd, but I couldn't imagine you kidnapping his portrait off her wall," he said, staring curiously at the portrait wizard. "And if he completely hates it, I s'pose he can leave."

"Excuse me, but if you've finished with all the inconsequential chitchat, I wish to hear Potter's report," Snape said acerbically.


	20. More Portraits

More Portraits

Snape looked piercingly into Harry's eyes. "You must have found it."

Inhaling deeply, Harry said, "I did. Kreacher showed me how to get in, but he worried Sirius might come, so I sent him home. It was bigger than I thought, connected to the cellars by a magical door I never knew was there."

"What are you talking about? Where did you go?" asked Ron.

"Number Twelve," said Harry. "I'm trying to discover who made the portrait of my father. It seems frighteningly like Mrs. Black, and I don't want his portrait to go wretchedly mad. Sirius isn't talking."

"What did you see?" asked Snape impatiently.

"It 's like a madhouse," he replied, grimly. "Remember the way Mrs. Black used to scream and rant? Imagine a dungeon full of them on all the walls. Fortunately they had plaques on their frames that identified them, because they kept howling insults and shrieking, "_Toujours Pur_!"

"They were of no use then," said Snape, his face slightly more pale than normal.

Harry pulled a folded parchment out of his pocket. "I made a list of the names on the plaques. The oldest of them was Maximus Black, who died in 1421. He was…" here Harry paused to breath deeply. "He was sane, and he radiated evil. He refused to speak, but watched every move I made. I can picture him ruling his family after his death for decades. There was a gap of nearly a hundred years between him and the next of them. His grandson, the first Arcturus there, was the next. He was a dignified, gray-haired wizard, crawling on the floor of his portrait, sobbing and drooling."

"What was the point of it all?" asked Ron.

"The pureblood families were obsessed by blood pride and a desire to advance their own interests as they saw them," said Snape. "One megalomaniacal patriarch after another tried to control their families beyond the grave, and condemned their portrait selves to eternal torment alone in a frame."

Harry closed his eyes, recalling the malicious gleam in the burning gray eyes of the first patriarch. If anyone were inclined to listen, that ancient Dark wizard would incite wicked destruction. "I think old Maximus has driven his portrait descendents mad over the centuries. He was horrifying."

"How did they get down there?" asked Ron. "I've never heard of anything like this, so it must be pretty secretive."

"I've never heard of mad Weasley portraits lying around the house," said Ginny.

"Congratulations on having a family heritage less power-crazed and demented than most purebloods," said Snape, smiling faintly at her.

Ginny smiled fondly at him. As Harry spoke, she'd had a frightening vision of Professor Snape's portrait trapped in such a horrible place and she felt a surge of protectiveness toward him.

"I'm glad you're safe at Hogwarts," she told him.

"So am I," he said grimly.

"But you're no closer to finding out who made your dad's portrait, Harry," said Hermione. "And I wonder if there are other caches of portraits in old wizard dwellings."

"It seems possible," mused Snape. "I wonder what a look under Malfoy Manor would turn up."

"I will find out where Sirius got that portrait made and give the rest to Kingsley. I don't want to go near Malfoy Manor!" said Harry. "And Ron, the house elves brought them down to the chamber. After the death of the next head of the family, Kreacher told me the elves have always put the previous one away. So other pure-blood houses with elves probably did the same."

"If we can help, let us know," said Ron.

"You can help by swearing _not_ to go out playing with Sirius and my father's portrait, Ron," said Harry. "I'm sure everyone's heard about his recent romp in the moonlight."

"Hermione made me promise not to mention it if you didn't," said Ron, grinning wickedly. "Does he really have a huge tattoo on his wrinkled bum?"

"Shut it! I'm trying to forget!" snapped Harry, flushing. "What were my parents thinking, making that maniac my godfather?"

Silence echoed from Snape's portrait. It was Hermione who finally spoke.

"Well, they were really young," she said slowly. "They never really believed they wouldn't be there with you."

"I suppose," said Harry, glancing at his pregnant wife and vowing not to saddle his child with a reckless boor for a godfather.

"Well, we should be going," said Ron. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be there." Harry smiled. "Thanks for coming this evening. It's not fun to share a meal with Sirius."

"There was no _sharing_ involved!" Ron exclaimed, deeply indignant. "And what's with shoveling an entire chicken's worth of meat into his pockets? If he had a wife, he'd never get away with that!"

Ginny rose to walk them to the door. "Ron, you certainly married up in the world," she commented.

"I know," he replied, smiling at his wife.

"Good night, Professor Snape," said Hermione. "I'm glad you're here."

"Good night," he said stiffly.

Harry returned to the drawing room alone and came to stand before Snape.

"Hogwarts portraits can't ever end like those others, can they?" he asked.

"Our portraits cannot be removed from the Head's office," replied Snape. "And unless the castle is destroyed around us, an unlikely prospect, our portraits cannot be destroyed."

"Good," said Harry, his frowning lightening. "But, Sir, were wizards back in the day so terrible and evil?"

"I'm not that old, Potter," murmured Snape mockingly. "But our ancestors were unconstrained by the Statute of Secrecy until 1692. If they were prone to cruel or abusive behavior, they had many opportunities."

"Maximus was horrifying. I think he drove his portrait descendents mad for entertainment," said Harry. "I don't want him out where he can influence living people. But what should we do about them?"

Snape paced back and forth restlessly before sitting down once more. "It is odd that I was not averse to dying in the struggle against Voldemort. In fact I _am_ dead. Yet there is enough of a man within this frame to make me loathe the idea of my portrait being destroyed."

"If _you_ feel this way, how much more do the ones like Maximus Black want to live?" asked Harry.

Snape looked rather approvingly at the young wizard. "You're no longer a complete dunderhead," he commented. "Perhaps progress in human development is possible, although I had little hope of it while I was teaching."

Harry chuckled, his green eyes brightening at last.

"Kingsley is a decent wizard, so I'll let him decide what to do with the Black ancestors. I wonder if they'll be brought to the Ministry to be studied."

"They might enjoy the attention," said Snape. "But are they to be considered sentient? Or possessions of Black?"

"A new category, perhaps," Harry said lightly. "You're shockingly sentient, Sir, and I can't imagine considering you a possession, although I do know the real you died and went on. It's not going to be easy to decide."

"I'll tell Minerva what's happening. I'd like her to be prepared to keep the Hogwarts portraits out of whatever Ministry investigation ensues. She so enjoys an argument."

Harry laughed. "She's taught a lot of Ministry people over the years and they're still a bit terrified of her."

"Excellent. I feel safer already," murmured Snape. "I hope you haven't forgotten that Black's mysterious artist is still at large."

"I'll go to Kingsley tomorrow, and see if I can come home to look through _Nature's Nobility_ some more. In fact, maybe I'll see if Ron can follow Sirius for a day or two, assuming he ever leaves the house."

"Ah, excuse me, but do you believe Weasley is capable of stealth?"

Harry chuckled. "I'll have him use my cloak. If Sirius is drinking all day long, as I fear, there's no way he'll notice Ron. Well, unless he turns into the bloody Grim. I suppose he might recognize Ron's scent."

"I look forward to hearing that tale," Snape smirked. "A Gryffindor trying to do a Slytherin's work. When he's discovered by Black, _and he will be_, suggest that he was looking for him in order to buy him a drink or a rotting piece of chicken."

"Ron could end up dying of alcohol poisoning like I almost did. I can't do that to him!"

"You're a better, more cynical wizard for that experience, aren't you?" asked his former teacher. "Experience does not come cheap."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You've always believed in the school of hard knocks, haven't you?"

"I don't believe that holding students to high standards is abuse. On the contrary, you whinged, yet you learned. Coddling fools does them no good."

And no one coddled you, thought Harry, recalling what he knew of Snape's memories.

"I'll pass the recipe for the hangover potion on to Hermione, just in case," he told Snape with a smile. "And speak with Professor McGonagall right away, because the Minister of Magic will know by noon tomorrow and he may act quickly."

"Very well. I'll return tomorrow to hear what's been decided," said Snape, nodding at Harry.

"See you tomorrow," he said, watching the wizard sweep out of the portrait.

Harry stayed there, gazing at the empty portrait for a while longer. A slight troubled frown lingered on his face. Finally, he headed for bed, assuring himself that the door was firmly closed and locked before ascending the stairs.

* * *

It was the next evening before Harry was able to return to Professor Snape. But when he finally entered the drawing room, Ginny was alone, staring at the empty portrait frame.

"What's happening?" she asked urgently. "Professor Snape went back to Hogwarts in mid-afternoon and hasn't returned. "Is he okay?"

"I hope so, but Kreacher and I brought the Unspeakables into the secret portrait chamber. We didn't say anything to Sirius, but they decided to take the portraits out. It felt like stealing, and I hated it, but Sirius wouldn't make things better for them. So I stood aside and let them try to get them out, but there were curses on the portraits, preventing them from being removed."

"Are they still there?" she asked.

"They're finally removing them now. I wanted to get Kreacher out of there. He was ready to punish himself for exposing the family secret. He's gone to his quarters here and if you can help cheer him up, I think he'd appreciate it."

"Okay," she said. "I don't want him to feel guilty. It's awful when house elves believe they're disobedient."

"Did Professor Snape say why he had to go to Hogwarts?"

"No, and I'm worried about him," said Ginny. "I thought he'd be back by now. Did you need to talk to him?"

Flushing slightly, Harry said, "There's nothing definite, I guess. But after seeing those terrible, insane portraits, I wanted to know he's still, um, okay."

"Let's go get something to eat," she said. "We'll check to see if he's back after supper."

They left the room and Professor Snape walked slowly to his portrait chair and sat down. He fiddled absently with his wand as he studied the empty room. After a short time he went to his desk and began reading a book. He picked up his quill and began making careful notes, eventually forgetting everything but the work before him.


	21. Responsibilities

Responsibilities

The Potters were enjoying a quick supper in the kitchen, when green flames shot up in the hearth. Ron's head appeared.

"Harry! Kingsley wants me to tell you that the Aurors picked up Sirius an hour ago. He was transformed into the Grim and running around, chasing Muggles in the park and stealing food from people's picnics. He's in the third floor at St. Mungo's, because they think he's suffering from some odd kind of potion side effects. But he transformed in front of witnesses and they now know he's an unregistered Animagus. Will you bail him out?"

"Holy Merlin!" exclaimed Harry, disgusted. "I wish I could leave him there."

"He was wearing your dad's portrait on that chain around his neck and he was starkers when he Transformed back to his human self, so a dozen hysterical Muggles needed their memories modified," added Ron helpfully.

Any reply Harry made was drowned out by Ginny's fit of ecstatic giggles. He and Ron watched her laugh until tears ran down her cheeks. They knew Professor Snape was going to hear this story as soon as she could get to him.

"I'll go to St. Mungo's," said Harry, striving to maintain his composure. "I hope they can keep him there for a bit, at least 'til he sobers up. _We_ know his potion of choice is firewhiskey, but I'd love to know he can't cause any more trouble tonight. Do you know who I'll have to talk to at the Ministry about his unregistered status?"

"No idea. The Animagus registry is the slowest job in the Ministry. Go down to Improper Use in the morning and they'll decide what to do about Sirius. Now that he's safe in St. Mungo's maybe they'll want to bring him straight in to discuss the matter," said Ron. "On the bright side, you won't have a visit tonight, so go talk to the Healers at St. Mungo's and have a peaceful night."

The flames were dying. Ron gave a cheery wave and disappeared.

Ginny was still smirking, imagining what people in the park had thought when the big black dog turned into an unkempt, tattooed, intoxicated nudist.

"I'll see if Professor Snape's back. Hurry up and try to convince them to keep him in their coziest kennel tonight," she said, kissing him. "See you soon, my poor husband."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Who's the real godfather in all this?" he asked as he headed for St. Mungo's.

* * *

An hour later, Harry entered his own home at last and found Ginny sitting with Professor Snape.

"Everything okay?" she asked brightly.

He nodded to Professor Snape and said, "They're keeping him in a locked room at St. Mungo's overnight, and then he'll be transported to the Ministry to discuss his Animagus status."

"Did they find him something to wear?" asked Ginny, bubbling with laughter.

"Yes! And if you'd gotten a close look at him out in the garden that awful morning, you wouldn't think it's funny," said Harry with a scowl. "I took a look in his room and he was passed out cold, snoring on the floor. The portrait was lying next to him, also snoring. They're like bloody soul mates, or something!"

"Now that your dear godfather is tucked up, I hope you'll tell me what happened at Grimmauld Place," said Professor Snape.

Relieved to change the subject, Harry turned to his black-clad mentor.

"It took time for the Unspeakables to deal with the curses that bound the portraits to the house, but they managed it. The portraits are being placed in a secure room in the Department of Mysteries."

"Since Black was romping in the park, shall we assume that he is unaware that the portraits have been moved?" asked Snape.

"I'm pretty sure he has no idea they exist. I told them to leave the portrait of his mum alone. Since she went to sleep, she seems peaceful and I don't want her disturbed."

Snape nodded. Harry noticed that he seemed tense, and slightly distant. That had been normal during his life, but he had become relaxed enough that the difference was very noticeable.

"What's wrong, Professor?" he asked impulsively.

"The Minister of Magic paid a visit to Professor McGonagall this afternoon. He wished to consult with her about the Black portraits."

"But she doesn't know anything about the portraits, does she?" asked Harry. "When a Headmaster dies, the new portrait simply appears on the wall in the office. She has no control over it."

"When this was confirmed for him, Shacklebolt asked that Unspeakables be allowed to go to Hogwarts and attempt an investigation of the portrait magic. The Headmistress and all of the portraits agreed that this was an unwarranted intrusion into the autonomy of the school, and the request was denied," said Snape in a carefully expressionless voice.

"If Kingsley accepted that answer, then there's nothing to worry about," said Harry. "Um, right?"

There was a pause, during which Harry began to feel there was something to worry about, and his eyes narrowed.

"As an alternative to opening the school to magical investigation, Shacklebolt then requested that one of the Headmaster portraits be replicated and sent to the Ministry to assist the Unspeakables," said Snape. "In effect, to spy on the portraits and find out where they came from and how they were created."

"You?" asked Harry, anxiety flooding him.

Snape nodded. "Dumbledore and I are the newest of the portraits, therefore we have the strongest ability to deal with the living. In fact, I knew many living people during my own life, so I can offer a clearer understanding of the situation to them."

"But Dumbledore can do it!" exclaimed Ginny, realizing she might stand to lose her wonderful portrait professor. "Why does it _always_ have to be you?"

Snape studied her intently and a tiny smile touched his mouth. "Perhaps I should have had you present to negotiate my release from this plan. You are a powerful advocate, Ginny. However, Professor Dumbledore is not at his peak of portrait wisdom these days…"

"Dead-Headmaster burnout," Harry grumbled softly.

"Exactly, Potter," murmured Snape. "Therefore it is my task to assist at the Ministry."

"Does this mean you won't be able to come here any more?" asked Ginny, here eyes wide with dismay. "At least… I mean, if you want to…"

The black eyes seemed to soften, but so briefly Harry wondered if he had imagined it.

"If you'll be too busy, Sir, we understand," he told Snape. "But we'll miss you if you have to stay there from now on."

"There is no magic that allows the living to prevent the movement of portrait subject between multiple portraits," said Snape mildly. "If it is possible, I'll return here when I'm able to. My presence seems to have a rather amusing effect on Black, don't you think?"

"Please come back any time, as often as you can. I'll miss you dreadfully, Professor," said Ginny. "And I'm sorry for every impudent thing I did in your classes!"

"Really?" smirked Snape, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps I'll assign you lines, _Miss Weasley_, and return to see the result."

She laughed then, and her worry seemed to ease slightly. But Harry found it harder to ignore that odd tension he saw in the portrait wizard, and he wondered what Snape's new job would entail.


	22. The Registered Animagi

The Registered Animagi

Harry entered the Ministry of Magic the next morning with a headache already looming like thunder on a steamy summer evening. Instead of a nice normal day at work, he would be helping Sirius negotiate his future as a registered Animagus. Ministry officials would escort Sirius from St. Mungo's to meet him in the Animagus Registry office.

The Animagus Registry entrance resembled the doorway to a dusty janitor's closet. Entering, he found it was one large, empty room, with a desk and three chairs across from it. The occupant was a thin, grey-haired wizard with a haggard complexion.

"How may I help you?" he asked in a rusty, disused-sounding voice.

"I'm here regarding the matter of Sirius Black's Animagus status," said Harry. "I'm Harry Potter. I expect that Sirius will be here any time now."

The wizard brightened at his words. "A real, living Animagus? Incredible! I haven't registered one since I did Peter Pettigrew, and he was a posthumous! At this rate, my job will be safe for the rest of my natural life!"

"Are they considering eliminating you?" asked Harry.

"Only in every single, cursed budget negotiation. My name is Angus MacMillan, by the way," said the wizard.

Harry shook hands with him, hoping this would not take too long. The subject of Animagi was intensely irritating.

"So you haven't been briefed yet about Mr. Black. Can you tell me what the penalty for being an unregistered Animagus will be? I'm a bit fuzzy about the whole thing."

"Ah well, it's been so many years since we've had a case that I don't think the old rules apply. Back in 1842 we had our last full penalty case. At that time, the wizard was given twenty lashes and a month in Azkaban for failing to report his ability. But I'm so bloody thrilled to have this fellow coming in to register that I think a fine, perhaps five hundred Galleons, should be adequate."

"Very good," said Harry, feeling deeply relieved.

"Well, and of course there'll be the official announcement in the _Daily Prophet_, but we'll handle that for him. Where is this fellow coming from?"

"He spent the night in St. Mungo's. It was some kind of strange reaction to a potion, I believe," Harry said.

The door opened and Sirius stomped in. He was wearing a motley collection of clothing and escorted by two Ministry officials, who hastily took their leave.

"Harry! Are you here to bail me out?" asked Sirius, his lined face lighting up.

"You're going to register as an Animagus, and then we can go," promised Harry.

"But I don't want to register! It takes all the fun out of it," pouted the scruffy wizard.

"I can't believe they caught us!" exclaimed a muffled voice from under the mangy red velvet cloak Sirius wore. "What a comedown!"

"_Who's that_?" asked Mr. MacMillan suspiciously. "Is there more than one of them?"

Harry smirked, feeling this was a harmless way to take a small piece of revenge on the dunderheads. "Actually, since you said you register people posthumously, you should register my late father, James Potter."

MacMillan's face paled. "_The_ James Potter? The hero? _The martyr_?"

"My father. He became an Animagus while he was at Hogwarts. He was a stag."

The bureaucrat grabbed his quill and a large parchment, beginning to scribble frantically.

"Will you pay the fine on his behalf?" he asked avidly.

"Certainly," said Harry. "I didn't expect this, but it's the right thing to do."

"_Traitor!_" hissed the small portrait voice.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let's deal with the living criminal first. What do you need so you can register him?"

"He must Transform and I'll take pictures of him for our records," said MacMillan.

The wizard opened a large drawer in his desk and began rummaging in it.

"Okay, you heard the man," Harry said to Sirius.

"I can't believe this!" Sirius whinged.

"They used to give you twenty lashes and send you to Azkaban," Harry said quietly. "Just be quiet and behave. You'll be out of here in no time."

Reluctantly, Sirius Transformed before their eyes, shedding plaid golf trousers, green silk shirt, cloak, bowler hat and all.

"Merlin's greasy earwax!" whimpered Macmillan, the camera falling from his shaking fingers. "He's the Grim!"

Sirius stood before them, panting and wagging his tail. He wore only the gold chain, from which hung the portrait of James.

"Hurry up and take your pictures," said Harry.

The wizard collected himself and took full face, profile and full body shots.

"What's that thing around his neck?"

"A magical portrait of his best friend, my father," said Harry, staring closely at the portrait. "Hey! He's transformed into his Animagus form in the portrait!"

Sure enough, a fierce-looking stag glared at them, and MacMillan quickly snapped a picture of the tiny stag portrait.

"Amazing!" he exclaimed, backing hastily away when Sirius growled at him. "I say, is Mr. Black safe when he's Transformed?"

"He's just, erm, a big, lovable pooch," said Harry, striving to sound convincing.

"Very well. I'll leave the room so he can Transform back and get dressed."

The bureaucrat hastily left the room. Harry rushed to follow, pausing only to say, "Let me know when you're dressed, Sirius."

He closed the door firmly, having seen more than enough of Sirius's scrawny bum.

Five minutes later, the door opened and Sirius stood before them in his borrowed clothing. He looked like an advertisement for the used robe shop in Diagon Alley.

"We're all ready to go, Harry," he crowed cheerfully. "Goodbye, old Ministry flunky. I wish I could say it's been good to meet you!"

MacMillan glared nastily. "Not so fast, scofflaw. I'll need you to sign some documents and then you can write the promissory note that will pay your fine. After that you can walk out of here, free and clear."

Sirius scowled, but when Harry spun him around he walked quietly back into the office and sat down.

Slapping several long, densely written parchments down, MacMillan said, "You'll want to read over these. Mr. Potter, I'll ask you to finish the form devoted to your late father. Then sign at the bottom."

Harry read over the form. It simply stated that James Potter, deceased, had been an Animagus during the course of his life. A picture of the portrait stag was affixed. Harry signed his name and handed back the document. Sirius was still staring at his form.

"Bloody hell, Harry. Does my arse really look that clunky when I'm Transformed?" he asked incredulously.

"Did you finish reading it and sign it?" asked Harry, glaring.

"Details!" exclaimed Sirius, tossing his head and signing with a flourishing scrawl.

"Now if you'll each fill in this promissory note, I shall collect the fines on behalf of the Ministry," said MacMillan as he put a small form in front of each of them.

"FIVE HUNDRED GALLEONS?" shrieked Sirius, his eyes bulging. "That's criminal!"

"Sirius, _you're_ the criminal," said Harry. "Just finish this and I'll take you out for a nice lunch."

"Now that you mention it, I'm feeling a bit peckish," said the Animagus, perking up.

They each signed and Sirius practically dragged Harry out of the Ministry. They stopped at the guest entrance and Sirius collected his wand, and then walked out into the sunshine.

"Well, James, it looks like fate has made honest men of us," said Sirius. "I feel amazingly virtuous, don't you?"

The small voice from the portrait snapped, "If I'd been alive, they would never have caught us. I'd have gone down fighting!"

Sirius's face fell. "Sorry, Prongs. You're the bravest Gryffindor of all, mate."

The small portrait wizard smirked. "You know it. But I forgive you, Padfoot. Are we going home now?"

"I thought we'd have lunch with Harry first," said Sirius, still looking rather cowed.

"Fine then," said James irritably. "It seems I hardly ever see my own son any more, so this is a good time to catch up."

They headed for the pub where Harry and Sirius had eaten after his first trip to the Ministry. The place was almost empty, but a hag seated at the bar waved in a genial manner.

"Good day to yeh, Sirius Black," she cackled. "You buyin' a round today?"

"For you, luv, absolutely," he shouted happily.

"Um, Sirius, do you have any money?" asked Harry quietly.

Sirius ran his hands over the remarkably hideous clothing he wore and said, "I suppose not! Look at this getup they gave me this morning. You'd think St. Mungo's would have something decent for someone to wear if they lose their own clothes. It must happen a lot, don't you think?"

They ordered from a bemused waitress and sat in silence for a short time.

"You don't think I've let down old James and Remus by registering, do you?" asked Sirius anxiously.

"Who cares if you're registered?" asked Harry. "And don't forget, James got registered at the same time!"

Sirius looked more cheerful, but the sound of a raspberry coming from the portrait made them both look down.

"Some son you turned out to be!" James shouted. "How dare you turn me in, you… Hufflepuff!"

"_What did you say?_" asked Harry, shaking his head as though a rabid gnat was accosting him.

"You heard me! I'd say you owe me something huge to make up for this betrayal. I can't believe I'm now a registered Animagus, you rule-lover! If I knew this up in heaven, I'd puke!"

"Lucky thing the news won't reach that far," said Harry.

Oddly, it wasn't Sirius's company that made their meal interminable. It was James Potter's portrait that was unrelentingly furious at the morning's activity. Even Sirius looked cowed once or twice at the vitriol in the tiny portrait wizard's harangue. It was a great relief for Harry to put some money down, including the promised pint for the optimistic hag.

"Have a good day, gentlemen," she cooed in a raspy voice. "See yeh nex' time."

Harry sighed with relief once they were outside. "Why don't you head home and put your own clothes on again," he suggested. "I'm not sure green's your color."

Sirius looked down, for the first time really seeing what he was wearing in the bright daylight.

"Merlin, I look disgusting! Good idea, Harry. I'll be over in time for supper, but I need to fix myself up."

Poor Ginny, thought Harry. But there was no way to avoid it, so he smiled heartily and said, "See you tonight then."

* * *

The minute Sirius Apparated away, Harry headed home to break the news to Ginny. But the house was empty when he arrived. He hoped that she and Kreacher were buying meat if they were shopping. He entered the drawing room and found Professor Snape there. The portrait wizard was pacing, with his robes billowing magnificently behind him.

"Hi Professor," said Harry, smiling at the sight of him. "Is everything okay?"

Snape hastily sat down and stared coolly. "Potter! What could possibly be wrong?"

"I don't know, but you seem upset, Sir."

The black eyes narrowed dangerously. "You used to be marvelously oblivious about other people. When have you developed this rudimentary power of observation?"

"Maybe I've grown up a bit in recent years," Harry murmured. "And you seem to be distracting me from my question."

"Impudence," snapped Snape, but without real irritation. "If you must know, I'll be starting my new job this evening."

"Oh. What are you supposed to do?"

Snape paused. "I am to spy upon the Black family portraits, of course, to get what information I can about their history and discover who created them," he said softly. "It's tiresome, you know. Occasionally even I would prefer to swagger in like a Gryffindor, flail a sword, kill someone and be done with it."

"That's stupid, Sir," said Harry. "In fact, the whole House thing is amazingly retarded. But that's beside the fact, Professor. I've seen the portraits, you know. I don't know what portraits can actually do to each other, but watch out for the old one. Maximus is a horror."

"I am to pretend to be a Black descendent," he replied, his lip curling with distaste. "The Unspeakables have offered to create a false identity for me, but…"

"Um, I have that book, Sir. If you like, I'll help you find an identity that'll work," Harry offered tentatively.

Snape's mouth twitched slightly as he pondered the unprecedented offer. "If you do not object, Potter. You seem as capable as any Ministry employee of turning the pages for me."

With a smirk, Harry went to the table and picked up the massive copy of _Nature's Nobility_.

"Where would you like to begin?" he asked politely.


	23. Janus Nigellus

Janus Nigellus

When Harry awoke the next morning, he carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake Ginny. It was no use, he realized, as she was wide awake and smiling mischievously at him.

"Are you going to tell me what you two are up to?" she asked. "It seemed like a private business session. I got tired and gave up waiting for you."

"I don't think he'd mind if you know, but no one else, not even Hermione and Ron can know. He's going to be in a portrait that's placed in the Ministry with the Black portraits, trying to learn everything he can about them."

"You were clever to hide all the evidence when Sirius arrived," she said. "He seemed a bit moody, didn't he?"

"He and Prongs had a fight over being registered," said Harry. "They're so isolated with together and they can't get away from each other. It's not too surprising, I guess."

"It was strange to see Sirius so down. I wonder if he's starting to get depressed," she mused. "Anyway, I've waited long enough. Tell me, how is our sweet professor going to deal with the wicked old Blacks?"

Harry grinned, imagining Snape's face if he heard himself described as sweet. But remembering what the plan was, he grew serious.

"He's planning to masquerade as a Black, so we compared the list of names I made during my visit with _Nature's Nobility_. We needed to find someone recent enough that the portraits wouldn't know he's a fake. You know, those people bred like deranged rabbits, so we finally found him a plausible identity."

Ginny laughed. "Deranged rabbits? I wonder what you think of my parents then!"

"I'm hoping _you_ haven't changed your mind about stopping at two," he said fervently.

"You're kidding, right? I haven't seen my feet in weeks, and I barely fit through doorways any more. I'm thinking we should have a pampered only-child prince like Draco Malfoy, except lovely like you."

He held his hands out to her. "Let's get up and have some breakfast while I tell you about Janus Nigellus."

"Janus Nigellus?" asked Ginny. "How did you come up with that? Wait, I'll be right back and I want to hear everything!"

She carefully rose from the bed and headed straight for the bathroom, as pregnant women were wont to do. Harry smiled and headed for the kitchen to start making breakfast.

* * *

"So Janus Nigellus is Phineas Nigellus's uncle?" asked Ginny as they lingered after breakfast.

"Born 1778 and died in 1846," replied Harry. "Professor Snape's impersonating a third son. The eldest was a Sirius and he died mysteriously, without an heir. He was only thirty. Phineas's dad was Arcturus, the second son. He was really old when Phineas was born. Arcturus was forty-five when he married a girl who was nineteen. They had four daughters before Phineas. Some of the family Latinized their last name, so that's where Nigellus comes from. Arcturus was a Nigellus, so we decided to make Janus one too."

"Wow," she murmured. "You were busy last night, weren't you?"

"We had to get the details right so he can to memorize everything. It's going to be confusing."

"He can do it," said Ginny confidently. "They'll be eating out of his hand."

Harry stared at her.

"Um, Gin, when we were in school, did you ever have a revolting, unhealthy crush on Professor Snape?" asked Harry, eyeing her strangely.

"Oh well, I had no idea back then that he was so gorgeous. I was such a kid back then. But lots of girls talked about him, you know."

"Gorgeous? You're kidding, right?" Harry's mind boggled.

Ginny giggled. "It was Mandy Brocklehurst and Padma Patil who started the fan club. They called it _Professor Sexy Snape's Seekers_. About eleven or twelve girls used to meet in the trophy room once a week during my fourth and fifth year."

"Merlin!" exclaimed Harry, feeling a bit sick. "What did they do?"

"They used to show each other the pictures they sketched of him during class and write poems and stories about what they thought he wore under those billowing robes. They giggled a lot. Thinking back on it, they had pretty dirty minds," she mused. "They especially watched him when he was around you. They thought it was funny when he gave out detentions and said snide things to dunderhead little you!"

"So _I_ was part of their sick little entertainment?" he asked. "Thank heavens I was busy obsessing about Voldemort and _hating_ Professor Snape. That's disgusting!"

"I wonder if he ever knew," said Ginny dreamily. "They were really scared of him, of course, but they thought he was dead sexy too. Thinking back, they were absolutely right! But then Dumbledore died and he became Headmaster and everything was so horrible. Nothing was funny after that… But those girls were on to something when we were kids."

Harry shuddered, imagining a crowd of teenage girls cackling wildly over their twisted infatuation with Professor Snape.

"I hope the baby's a boy," he said abruptly.

Ginny laughed. "If it is a girl, you'll be the last person to know she's having naughty fantasies about her teacher."

"The poor bloke," said Harry fervently, remembering the constant giggling and simpering from his school days. "If Professor Snape knew about the _Seekers_, he'd have poisoned them all, after taking every point away from their houses."

"Now that you mention it, there weren't any Slytherins in the _Seekers_. I remember Romilda Vane had a really amazing poster of Professor Snape that she hung in her bed curtains. She charmed it so when she got into bed, he'd say, "You're late, Miss Vane, detention in the dungeon. Undress immediately." And then _he'd_ take off… Oh, never mind!"

"Shut it, Gin! Am I blushing?" groaned Harry. "Females are disgusting!"

"Well, let's get back to the subject at hand, now that you know I never lusted after Professor Snape, back in the day. Let's see if he's stopping in this morning."

They headed for the drawing room. Ginny was moving as quickly as a very pregnant person could, obviously eager to see Snape's portrait.

"He said he'd come back this morning, but he'll have to spend almost all his time pretending to be a Black portrait until he learns everything he can. They've decided he can make an enormous contribution to our understanding of our ancestors. And he can't come back here until he's finished the job," warned Harry.

Snape was waiting for them, sitting in his fine chair.

"Are you really going to be gone for a long time, Sir? I'll miss you so much. We'll both miss you!" she exclaimed. "Who's going to protect poor Harry from his idiot godfather if you're gone?"

Snape smirked mockingly in Harry's direction before he replied.

"Your bat-bogey hex is quite effective, Ginny," he said mildly. "I must pretend I am trapped in one portrait like the others in order to win their confidence. But I'll have to report my findings at some point, so I shall escape at times."

"Come say hello as often as you can," she said. "I'll enjoy telling you more tales of the loony Marauders."

Snape smiled faintly at her. "I will escape occasionally. I despise bureaucrats and loathe arrogant pure-bloods. How ironic that in life I never pretended to be one, yet now as a portrait I must do it."

"Is it all right if I check in with the Unspeakables to see how it's going?" asked Harry.

"They are to report directly to the Minister. You must ask Shacklebolt for information," said Snape. "I may be gone for a considerable time, however. Portraits tend to lose track of time as the centuries go by. I have not noticed the effect yet, but I might be gone for days, or for months."

"How will Dumbledore and the others get along without you? Who'll beat him at poker?" asked Harry mischievously.

"I fear he'll be reduced to playing with the others. Dilys is an adequate bluffer. Phineas Nigellus is useless, however. The longer his portrait exists, the less subtle he becomes." Snape studied them briefly and said, "I must go now. Shacklebolt is waiting in Professor McGonagall's office. As always, keep your mind shut and your mouth closed, Potter."

A small mocking smile played about the taut mouth as he said it. He smiled and nodded to Ginny before he swept out of his frame.

Harry had been startled to hear the words he would never forget, spoken once more. He smiled ruefully as he gave Ginny a comforting hug.

"We'll see him again, and Kingsley will tell me how it's going, I'm sure."

"I hope so!" said Ginny, a tear rolling down in spite of her resolute expression.

"I'll be off to work, then," he said. "But are you finding it boring, being home now until the baby's born?"

"Sometimes. It's been wonderful having Professor Snape here to visit with, but I like to take a nap sometimes, too. Mum's a big help in getting things ready. I miss you, though," she told him.

"I'm going to be the first Auror to test the Ministry's new Paternity Leave program, so once the baby's here, you'll be sick to death of me," he said.

Ginny threw her arms enthusiastically around his neck. "Really? Did you just find out or have you been keeping secrets from me?"

"I've been sure I'd get the official three months off, and yesterday Kingsley said he wants me to work on the portrait investigation until we've settled things. So my schedule will be flexible for quite a while after that."

They beamed at each other, and a small movement in her belly told them that the baby was pleased with their plans too.

"I'm so excited, Gin," he said, placing a hand over the movement. "I still can't believe we're really having a baby."

"Four more weeks," she said. "Um, Harry, I want to talk with you about naming him, if he's a boy."

"You've thought of something?" he asked.

"I think we should call him Severus," she said, looking very serious. "If Professor Snape thinks it's all right, of course."

"Have you talked with Professor Snape about it?" asked Harry. "He'd probably say the idea is the ultimate impertinence."

"I haven't said anything yet," she murmured thoughtfully. "Maybe he'd say it's okay, though."

"Are you _sure_ you didn't have an unhealthy infatuation with him?" asked Harry. He was struggling with his feelings, and he was surprised at how much he liked the idea of a son named Severus Potter.

"He's just the most amazing person," she said. "So clever, and in spite of what we thought when we didn't really know him, he's so brave and good."

"I think I like the idea, Gin. Let's talk about it when I get home from work this evening, okay?"

"Okay," she said, kissing his cheek. "I'll walk you out. I'm going to walk over to the Burrow and visit with Mum. If I don't get more exercise I'll look like this for the rest of my life."

He laughed as they left the drawing room and went outside. "Say hello to your mum for me. I'll see you this evening, hopefully for an Animagus-free evening."

The sound of their voices faded from the drawing room and Professor Snape walked slowly back into his portrait and sat down, looking completely astounded.


	24. Another Party Looms

Another Party Looms

It was three long weeks before anything was heard of Professor Snape. Harry and Ginny went about their business and pretended that his absence did not disturb them, but they were each growing increasingly worried. Harry was busy, tying up loose ends at work before the baby was born, but Ginny often sat and gazed at the empty portrait frame.

Sirius pounded on the door early one fine September morning.

"Hellooooo, Potters!" he howled. "Open up! We have to talk!"

"Why? What?" asked Harry, forcing his eyes open. "What time is it?"

"Half past seven," groaned Ginny. "Shouldn't he be sleeping something off at this hour?"

The pounding grew louder. A sudden flash of light stunned them and Harry saw, in horror, that Sirius had sent his Patronus up to them. It was a haughty, shining stag.

"Wake up, you bloody slackers," it snapped. "We need to make plans."

"I don't believe it. How can he have the same Patronus as me?" asked Harry, staring in shock.

"Will you go tell him to be quiet?" asked Ginny irritably. "I can't move fast enough to hex him, but you have quick reflexes."

Harry rolled out of bed and grabbed his bathrobe. His wand was on the nightstand, but instead he grabbed a glass of water. Going to the window, he leaned out and threw the water down on the clamoring Animagus.

"Stop pounding! I'll be there in a minute!" he shouted.

"Attaboy, Potter! That's the old spirit!" Sirius called, smirking up at him.

Harry scowled and whispered, "_Accio_ wand."

With wand in hand, nonverbally he cast a Levicorpus and grinned cynically as Sirius dangled upside down, James's portrait banging against his face.

"Hey! Put me down! Isn't there a law against bloody Aurors doing Dark magic?" asked Sirius as small items rained out of his pockets.

"I'll be right down," called Harry cheerfully.

He sauntered down the stairs and opened the front door, squinting in the bright sunshine.

Sirius's face was red and he was glaring past the small swinging portrait.

Harry removed the spell and calmly watched Sirius fall to the ground.

"Good morning, Sirius," he said pleasantly. "It's a lovely morning, isn't it?"

Sirius climbed to his feet with an accusing glare. "You're using _his_ spells. I never realized what a penchant for Darkness you have in you. I'm worried about you."

Harry looked down at his father's portrait and saw the face, so much like his, glaring angrily up at him.

"If I have a penchant for Darkness, I come by it honestly," he murmured. "I remember seeing my own father use that spell, and I was disgusted."

"Snivellus deserved it!" insisted Sirius. "The greasy, Dark Arts loving little oddball."

His irritation growing, Harry snapped, "Well then, I suppose you'll be disappointed to learn that we're thinking of naming the baby Severus if he's a boy!"

Identical expressions of horror and outrage appeared on wizard and portrait wizard, but suddenly Sirius began guffawing with hysterical laughter.

"Good one, Harry!" he barked, wheezing ecstatically. "That'll teach us to show up so early at your door. Look, I'm sorry mate, but my birthday is in two days and I need you to help plan the party. You won't let me down, will you, dear little godson of mine?"

"What is there to plan? Make a list of people to invite, and invite them. Since you're here so early, come in and have some tea. Ginny will be down soon and I want to make breakfast for her."

Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered something insulting about Harry's pitiful lack of manliness, but James finally spoke.

"That girl is about to make me a grandpapa," he snapped. "It's the least Harry can do, making breakfast for her."

"Thanks," Harry said to the portrait. "I hope you were decent to my mum when she was expecting me."

"I treated her like a princess," said James, a complacent smirk on his portrait face. "Even when she was as big as the bloody house!"

Harry's eyebrow rose, and he wondered exactly how a Marauder would pamper a pregnant wife. Perhaps it was better not to know. He ushered Sirius inside and closed the door.

"So it's your birthday, eh?" he said, striving for a jovial tone. "How old will you be?"

With a slight scowl, Sirius muttered something as he followed Harry to the kitchen.

"What? I didn't catch that."

"_I'm forty-five, all right?_" snapped the Animagus nastily. "It stinks, but any excuse for a party, right?"

"Feeling a bit middle-aged, Padfoot?" asked James slyly. "One thing to be said for dying young, you don't have to grow old and decrepit."

"Shut it, Prongs," said Sirius. "Considering you're going to be a grandfather any day now, I wouldn't talk too much."

Harry was becoming accustomed to the frequent bickering between the two. He wondered cynically whether his father ever paid as much attention to his mother as he did to his spoiled godfather. He put the kettle on and began foraging for some tasty breakfast foods that Ginny might fancy.

"What's the plan, then," he asked.

Sirius sat down at the table and stared expectantly at Harry. "I wouldn't say no to a plateful of chipolatas," he murmured suggestively.

Sighing, Harry modified his breakfast plan and got things started.

"Are you going to have your party at your house?" he asked.

"Well I thought it might be nicer if someone else were to have the party and then I could be the guest of honor," Sirius said with an ingenious smile.

"Is there going to be a party?" asked Ginny, entering the room.

"Harry's offered to host a birthday party for me on Thursday," said Sirius.

She looked from her scowling husband to the beaming Animagus. "I didn't know it's your birthday. How old are you?"

"Tell her, Padfoot," snickered James, a sickeningly smug smirk on his tiny painted face.

"I'm forty-five," Sirius muttered, his haggard face blushing an unattractive brick red.

"Really? Should we consider that you're coming of age on Thursday, then?"

Sirius drew himself up proudly. "Not bloody likely! You're all conventional and dreary enough for everyone. Someone has to battle boredom."

"Enough of this!" exclaimed James. "How's my little namesake this morning, sweet Jill?"

She smiled sweetly as she poured herself a cup of tea. "Little Severus is very well, I think."

Two pairs of eyeballs bulged as they stared at her in horror.

"I thought you were taking the mickey," said Sirius. "You can't attach that git's name to Prongsie's grandson. He's going to be named James Sirius!"

"When you give birth to him, _then_ you can name him," snapped Ginny. "I'm calling him Severus Albus Potter."

"With those names the kid will be a brainy, ugly little freak," said James sourly. "Don't you want him ever to go on a date or have friends?"

"He'll have friends," said Ginny, although stress was beginning to show in her wrinkled brow.

Harry put a plate with toast and fruit on the table for her and a platter of sizzling sausages in front of Sirius, who fell to ravenously devouring his breakfast. He studied his wife cautiously. Normally she loved laughing at the bizarre antics of the Marauders and he wondered if she was feeling well.

"Do you have a guest list?" he asked.

Sirius fumbled inside his brown striped suit jacket and pulled out a battered piece of parchment. He handed it to Harry with a flourish.

"I know you're busy, so I'll be on my way," said Sirius, picking up his platter and licking it one last time. "Let me know what the theme of the party will be and I'll see you at seven on Thursday."

Harry escorted him to the door and closed it firmly behind him. Another party for Sirius, he thought irritably. Without conscious thought he entered the drawing room and went to stand before Professor Snape's portrait.

"Hello, Potter," said Professor Snape.

Harry started. "Professor! Are you all right?"

Snape was seated in his throne-like chair, his face completely expressionless. "How long have I been gone?" he asked softly.

"Three weeks and one day," said Harry. "What happened, Sir? Is it finished?"

"No. But the Ministry removed my portrait so I could report what I have learned. I asked for some time to collect my thoughts. It is disorienting to be so removed from the living world."

His black eyes met Harry's as though seeking something.

"Can you stay for a while? Ginny really wants to see you. She's missed you," said Harry.

Snape's eyes softened faintly. "The old portraits don't understand time any more, so I can stay for a while. Ginny need not know everything I'm learning, however."

"Tell her what you can," said Harry. "I'd like to know too."

"Through your scar, you've seen into the Dark Lord's mind. If you wish to hear it, I believe you should know it as well as the Unspeakables."

"Is this something that should have been left alone?" asked Harry grimly.

"It would be better left buried in time, but there were many other portraits created, which should be found and isolated, lest they share their knowledge and madness with living wizards."

"Ginny will be here any minute, but after she's off to take her nap, I want to know."

"The Ministry must revise their understanding of Dark Arts practices after I have finished," said Snape grimly. "But that part shall be told later. Has Ginny given birth yet?"

"No, but the midwife says it'll probably be within the next week."

"Harry! Is he back?" asked Ginny, coming to stand before the portrait. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you, Professor! It's been so boring without you. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you. I see you're still incubating your offspring. Are you feeling well?" Professor Snape studied her intently as he spoke.

"Tired of being so huge, but I'm all right. The idiots have been bothering us, as usual. But I want to know how your career as Janus Nigellus has been. Are the Black ancestors as horrible as I think they must be?"

Her brown eyes were bright with pleasure and Harry was grateful to see how Ginny was cheered by Professor Snape's visit.

"Sit down, Gin. Professor Snape's going to tell us about his adventure," he said.

Snape waited until she was seated comfortably before him.

"Janus Nigellus was an interesting fellow," he began. "If one must impersonate a Black, I'm pleased to say we chose the black sheep of the family. In fact, he was your ancestor, Ginny."

"Tell me everything," she said eagerly, her brown eyes glowing with excitement.


	25. Family Fun

Family Fun

"Janus Nigellus was the product of his father's infatuation with a Muggle woman," said Snape. "The family estate was near Godric's Hollow. Janus's father, ironically named Sirius, enjoyed using love potions to take advantage of village women. Janus was the result of one such exploit. The woman's family dropped the child on the Black doorstep when he began exhibiting magical power at the age of six."

"Is there a portrait of that Sirius?" she asked.

"Fortunately no, or my impersonation might not have worked. The family was ruled by his grandfather's portrait. The philanderer had no power in his own home and he chose to escape by toying with Muggles."

"Ew," said Ginny.

Snape nodded. "Janus was a half-blood in a pure-blood household and he was treated badly by his stepmother and half-brothers. He was magically powerful and went to Hogwarts, becoming a prefect and Head Boy in spite of his illegitimacy."

"Are you sure he's related to Sirius?" asked Harry with an ironic smile.

"There is little resemblance," said Snape dryly. "Janus left his father's family when he came of age and made his way in the magical world with no assistance from them. He changed his surname to Nigellus when he left them. He married a daughter of the Prewitts and had four daughters, so the male line ended with him. I told the Black portraits that my portrait was found in an abandoned manor once lived in by Prewitts and since they know little of Janus, I was accepted quite easily."

"How was he related to me?" asked Ginny.

"His granddaughter married her fourth cousin, Godric Prewitt. Of all the Blacks to be connected with, he must be considered one of the best. It seems he was intelligent, modest and remarkably attached to his Muggle mother. His great-grandfather's portrait said he ran away to see her periodically when he was a child."

If his own mother had been alive, thought Harry, no one on earth could have kept him from seeing her. He felt a sudden kinship with the long-dead Janus Nigellus.

"Did the portraits accept you and talk to you?" he asked.

"At first they did not," he said. "I pretended to have no interest in them and to be angry that I was trapped with them. It seemed to be what Janus would feel. The most recent of the Black portraits is Janus's great-grandfather. He remembered me, I mean Janus, as a rather intense, gloomy child who spoke little. Janus spent as much time as possible in the library, reading every book in it."

"Poor boy," said Ginny. "Was his life better after he went away and got married?"

"The portraits never saw him after he left the Black family. It was easy to make up some details of his life, based on what was written in _Nature's Nobility_, and on what little the portraits said of him. I am now accepted as Janus."

"You're back in time to help us plan Sirius's birthday party," said Harry lightly, not wanting to get into the Dark Arts aspect of the Black family. "He's having a bit of trouble accepting that he's forty-five years old."

"The moron," hissed Snape. "My life didn't contain much that was delightful, but I cannot imagine whinging about the privilege of living for forty-five years. One may accomplish much in that time.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Sirius believes if he acts like a child he won't grow old, and he thinks that's a good thing. He and my father's portrait seem arrested at about age sixteen."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I must check in at the Headmistress's office now, to see if my counsel is needed there."

"Or if Professor Dumbledore needs to see you," said Ginny brightly. "Will you come back, though? Harry's going to work soon, but I'd love it if you have time to come and visit today."

Snape glanced meaningfully at Harry for a moment before saying; "I shall return this afternoon, if that is convenient. I'll enjoy hearing of Black's pathetic antics."

Ginny beamed at him. "I'll see you then," she said. She blew a kiss to him as he departed his frame.

"I'll go to work now, so I can get home early," said Harry. "Make sure you rest today and lock the door in case Sirius comes back."

He kissed her and headed for the door, unsure exactly what Snape had wanted, but planning to find out.

* * *

Entering the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts, he heard more portrait voices speaking at once than he'd ever heard before. They all fell silent when he entered, however.

"At last, Potter," said Snape, his eyes glinting wickedly. "Minerva just left and I must go on to my next destination. Meet me in Shacklebolt's office in ten minutes."

"Wait, Severus," said Dumbledore, looking hopeful. "You must have time for a few hands of cards. It's been a long dreary few months without you here."

"It was only three weeks, Albus," said Snape resignedly. "This assignment is a bore, but I took it on, so you would not have to. Let me finish it, please."

"But you spend so much time with Harry too," said the white-bearded wizard, a note of complaint creeping into his voice.

In life Harry had never heard that tone from Professor Dumbledore and he looked closely at him. He knew it was merely a portrait, but these Headmaster portraits were so vibrant that it hurt to see his old mentor looking unhappy.

"Professor, are you all right?" he asked, feeling rather stricken.

"Harry, dear boy," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes lighting up. "I'm very well. Thank you for asking."

Snape met Harry's gaze and twitched his head toward the door. As Harry left he heard Snape speaking quietly to Dumbledore.

"Albus, I'll return soon. Dilys has promised to take care of things until I return, you know. She is an excellent poker player and will help you sharpen your game before we play again."

"Very well, Severus." said Dumbledore. "I don't mean to bother you. Perhaps I'm beginning to lose my grasp of time. They say it happens gradually. I shall manage until you return."

"You'll be fine," said Snape gently. "Prepare for me to win your hat again, after I return."

Harry had paused, shamelessly eavesdropping on them, and the patience in the late Potion Master's voice touched him deeply. How could he ever have thought, even when he was a young idiot, that Snape hated Dumbledore? But he realized he'd have to hurry to meet Snape at the Ministry, so he fled down the stairs and out of the castle.

* * *

"Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said warmly. "It's good to see you again. Professor Snape is waiting in here."

He led Harry into a small room behind his main office, where Snape waited in a small portrait.

"Thanks, Kingsley," said Harry. "By the way, I'm hoping to impose on you to stop by my house on Thursday. We're having a birthday party for Sirius. I'm hoping to keep things on a fairly civilized footing, and your presence might help."

The Minister of Magic's eyes twinkled wickedly. "I'd rather administer an explosive enema to a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

A snort came from the portrait and both wizards stared at Professor Snape, who was striving to control a smirk.

"I thought the Minister of Magic must be a diplomat," Snape said. "Instead you seem to be a man of remarkable sense, Shacklebolt."

"But you could check out the portrait of my father, Kingsley," offered Harry, playing his trump card. "I never knew him in life, and Professor Snape feels he lacks, erm, impartiality, you might be able to tell if he's the real thing. You knew him, didn't you?"

Snape smirked approvingly at Harry as they waited for Kingsley to respond.

"You're right," he said pleasantly. "Anyway, I won't leave you in the lurch again, Harry. We owe you a great deal for all you did in the war. An hour or two watching Sirius Black behave like an idiot is bearable."

"Thanks," said Harry fervently. "If you'll come, I hope to scare up lots of other guests. We can spread the load a bit, that way. It's at seven o'clock."

He glanced at Snape as he spoke, meeting the wizard's cynical gaze with one of his own.

"There was much to be said for a quiet life in the dungeon, Potter," he said with a mocking smile.

"Actually, the cupboard under my aunt's stairs sounds surprisingly decent right now," Harry replied.

"Back to business, men," said Kingsley, his expression turning serious. "What have you learned, Snape?"

"Maximus Black tried many ways to achieve immortality before settling for a portrait existence," murmured Professor Snape. "He is most interested in me, claiming to see some resemblance to himself in Janus. He believed I would be flattered, _half-blood bastard_ that I am."

"Really," said Kingsley. "What did he do?"

"He attempted to create a Horcrux, but found it too difficult to master the spells. He attempted to possess various creatures, imagining that if he could find a weak-minded young person, he might overcome the man's spirit and find life in a younger body," said Snape in a level voice.

"What happened to those he experimented on?" asked Kingsley, a look of revulsion on his face.

"Imagine the worst. His own descendents were his preferred victims," said Snape quietly. "My – er, Janus's father had a large number of half-blood children. It was something other Blacks had done before him, and Maximus killed three of his own illegitimate grandsons in attempting to possess them as youths. There were also other attempts."

Harry felt sick.

"What about the mothers? Didn't they try to stop him?" asked Harry.

"Janus was fortunate that his mother concealed him until his magic was strong. Most mothers did not dare to do so. Also, the villagers learned over the centuries to be cautious in dealing with the Blacks," Snape said. "Some Muggles during Maximus's reign of terror thought the half-magical children were cursed, and willingly handed them over. He was amused by their superstitions."

"Is the Black estate still in existence?" asked Kingsley. "I've never heard of the place."

"It was in Wiltshire. During Janus's lifetime, the Muggles threatened to go to the Ministry of Magic unless the Blacks left the country, never to return. So everything of value was removed to the town house, now the only ancestral home of the Blacks."

"Did _he_ tell you all this?" asked Harry, remembering the hateful gleam in Maximus's gray eyes.

"Several of the others told me things from time to time. I finally implied that I too had killed, and then Maximus was very open about his acts," said Snape. "Like Bellatrix Lestrange, he delighted in cruelty."

Harry's mind flashed back to Hogwarts, to the raw pain in Snape's eyes after he had killed Dumbledore. Professor Snape was not vicious, he had hated what he was forced to do as Dumbledore's spy. It must be awful to pretend to be evil once again.

"Will you be able to discover the families who may also have these extremely vital portraits hidden away?" asked Kingsley.

"The Peverell Manor, if the location is known, will have many. The Malfoys must have hidden them deep. Also the Gaunts, the Princes and the Rosiers. There are likely more. When I return I'll try to learn more," said Snape.

"Will you return soon?" asked Kingsley.

"I wish for some time to collect my thoughts before I return. They are so long dead that they will not notice the difference between a day or a week."

"Fair enough," said Kingsley. "Stop in and tell me when you're ready to go back. I assume I'll see you at Sirius Black's birthday party?"

"Possibly," replied the portrait wizard calmly. "I also wish to ask Potter if he's learned anything about Black's secret portrait creator."

"Sorry, Sir," said Harry. "Kreacher has followed him sometimes, and Ron has too, on his days off. But Sirius hangs out at home a lot or goes out wandering around. He doesn't really have friends. He actually bought Mundungus Fletcher a drink yesterday."

"How the mighty have fallen," sneered Snape. "Potter, your wife's condition is making it hard for her to deal with Black. If you must have that ridiculous party, make sure her mother is present to watch her."

"How do _you_ know so much about _my_ pregnant wife?" asked Harry with a twinge of jealousy.

"I studied many subjects during my life, including healing. Ginny is stressed. Having been absent, perhaps it's easier for me see the difference."

"I do see it too," Harry grudgingly told him. "I'll owl the midwife to stand by too."

"Good. Go about your business then. I deserve the amusement of hearing from Ginny what those two morons have been up to during my absence."

Harry grinned and said, "Have her tell you how they finally became registered Animagi."

Kingsley snorted, having heard the tale that was going around the Ministry.

"I'll see you two on Thursday," he said. "Thank you, Professor, and Harry, I'll see you later."

Snape nodded briefly to them and strolled out of his frame.


	26. Happy Birthday, Sirius!

Happy Birthday, Sirius!

Thursday morning dawned cloudy. Thunderclouds muttered ominously overhead and one glance out the window made Harry squeeze his eyes shut in denial.

"I want to stay here until tomorrow and forget the whole thing," he muttered.

"I've been awake for hours," said Ginny. "If I weren't such a brave Gryffindor I'd probably plead pregnancy malaise and skip the stupid party."

"Professor Snape's going to be there, so I know you won't miss it," Harry teased.

"I was talking with him yesterday," she said slowly. "I told him we want to name the baby after him and Professor Dumbledore."

"What did he say?"

"You know how hard he is to read, but I think he was really flattered. But he advised against it. He said Sirius will make all our lives miserable, and maybe even take a dislike to the baby."

"I've been liking the idea more every day," said Harry, rolling over to hug her.

"Well, I had another idea," she said with a mischievous smile. "If it's a boy, let's call him Janus."

Startled, he realized that Sirius would have no idea what it meant to them. He chuckled and said, "It sounds good. I like what Professor Snape told us about Janus Nigellus too. But what about a middle name?"

"If we call him Janus James Potter, Sirius can't say too much, can he?" she asked.

"I never knew you were an optimist, Gin," he said irritably. "We'll never hear the end of it."

"But this is _our_ baby! Let Sirius get married or get pregnant, and then he can name his own kid," she snapped.

"Can you imagine him as a father? Or a husband for that matter?"

Ginny shuddered. "Anyway, I'm not a huge fan of that little brat in the portrait around Sirius's neck, but in real life your dad died trying to save you and your mum. Maybe our Janus James will be a kinder person than your dad."

"Or maybe it's a girl," he said soothingly.

"I hope so, but I want to be prepared either way," she said. "We should get up now. Kreacher took the guest list and said he'd handle everything. He's been making some of the food and planning the decorations, but I told him that if he wants to, he might disappear before the guest of honor arrives. I wonder what the theme of the party will be."

"You let _Kreacher_ choose the theme?" asked Harry.

"He's known Sirius longer than any of us," she replied innocently. "I also told him if there were any other people still alive that weren't on the list, to invite them too."

"I think I should take a look at these preparations. You did tell him no poisons, right?"

"Harry! We can't let poor Kreacher think we don't trust him," she exclaimed. "He's been so wonderful all these years, he'd be so hurt! Let him finish the party. It'll be fine."

Ginny rolled over carefully, preparing to get out of bed. As Harry watched her, concern for her made everything else leave his mind. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

"You're not going into labor at this party, are you?" he asked. "What a disaster that would be."

"I'm fine, Harry," she said impatiently. "I'll take a shower and be ready to face the day in no time. Mum's coming over early this afternoon to help, and Professor Snape said he'd be here this morning so I can have my morning tea and gossip with him. You can go to work and not worry about a thing."

Harry laughed reluctantly at the idea of Professor Snape and Ginny dissecting their mutual acquaintances over tea. His presence in their home was a delight to her, and having made peace with the past, he found his old nemesis a great comfort. They shared a grim history, but also a deep mutual understanding.

"Okay, if I leave soon I can be home shortly after noon," he told her. "Have fun with Professor Snape and your mum."

He hurriedly prepared for work, and since Kreacher was nowhere to be seen, vowed to have a word with the elf as soon as he returned home. He Apparated away with some misgivings, but surely this party could only be better than Sirius's Resurrection Party, he thought.

* * *

There had been an outbreak of petty thefts in Diagon Alley, so Harry did not arrive home until evening. He had told Ginny through the Floo that he'd be late, and was relieved that she didn't seem to mind. Mrs. Weasley was there, and Snape was sitting in his portrait, gazing out with frank interest. Harry arrived home at the same time that Mundungus Fletcher arrived.

"'Lo, Harry," said the bandy-legged old goat. "Truce fer tonight? It's Sirius's birthday, after all."

"Everything's counted, Dung, so don't bother pocketing anything of ours," Harry replied sternly.

He was distracted by a huge crowd of people moving in and out of the house, all milling about and chatting. It seemed the guest list had grown since Sirius handed it over. A large number of the guests were female, he noticed, bemused.

"Mr. Potter!" called Professor McGonagall. "What an, er, interesting party. When will Sirius Black arrive?"

"I just got here," he said, striving to be pleasant. "I don't know anything. Where's Ginny?"

"In the drawing room with Severus, of course. I must say, Potter, that I've never seen Severus enjoy himself before. Having a portrait in your home makes him very happy."

"We like having him here," said Harry. "Thank you for making it possible."

He excused himself and staring in wonder at the mob as he entered the house. Professor Sinistra was there, chatting with Professor Trelawney and Madam Rosmerta. Hestia Jones and Molly Weasley were staring in horror at the tall, blond-haired wizard who stood before Professor Snape's portrait.

"Nice party, Potter," said Draco Malfoy pleasantly. "We were rather surprised to get the invitation, but after all, Mother _is_ Black's cousin. Father is having a visit with Professor Snape's portrait. Give them a moment, will you?"

Harry's eyes bulged and he wondered for a moment if he was having a stroke. The Malfoys actually in his drawing room!

"Are you all right?" asked Narcissa Malfoy, looking concerned. "I am quite grateful for your invitation, Potter. Our family lost some of its social standing in recent years, but I believe things will improve now that we're seen to be back in the swing of things."

"I'm fine," croaked Harry, "I should go say hello to my wife, however. It's, erm, ah, nice to see you Mrs. Malfoy, Draco."

Ginny was in the far corner of the room, and to get to her he was forced to say hello to a veritable army of witches. They ranged in age from Penelope Clearwater to Madam Edgecombe from the Ministry. Finally he reached his wife.

"Ginny, what in Merlin's saggy boxers are the Malfoys doing in our house?" he gasped. "And who are all these people?"

"Don't you like the decorations?" she asked, her eyes sparkling wickedly. "When Sirius arrives, in about five minutes, everyone's going to hide and then we'll all jump out and scream, "Surprise!"

"He can't be more surprised than I am," said Harry, finally noticing the decor. "Black decorations?"

"Black for Sirius Black," she said lightly. "Here comes Lucius Malfoy, so behave yourself."

"_Me? I should behave myself?_" Harry turned, gripping his wand.

"Ah, Harry Potter," said the blond-haired former Death Eater graciously. "My family is honored to be invited to your home. And this is your lovely wife. Delighted to see you, Mrs. Potter."

Harry found himself shaking hands with the wizard, something he would have thought impossible two seconds earlier. He glanced over his guest's shoulder and saw Professor Snape smirking wickedly. The sight reassured him slightly. A sudden flash made him blink furiously.

"How lovely to see the old wounds of our society healed by time," said Rita Skeeter, her photographer at her shoulder. "Harry dear, how long have you and Mr. Malfoy been such close friends?"

"Our friendship is of recent duration, but close nonetheless," said Lucius smoothly. "My son Draco has known Harry for many years, and of course his godfather is my wife's cousin."

As usual, Harry found himself speechless in the presence of the Skeeter, but a distraction occurred.

"He's coming!" called Bill Weasley. "Everybody prepare to surprise him!"

Lucius took the opportunity to saunter elegantly over to his wife and take her arm. With many feminine shrieks and giggles the crowd began dispersing to various hiding places. Harry looked down at Ginny, whose eyes were sparkling with wicked laughter.

"Kreacher didn't do this alone!" he muttered accusingly.

"Maybe he heard Professor Snape and me talking yesterday and adjusted his plans slightly," she said apologetically. "There's nothing to do now but enjoy the party, Harry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

They watched Miriam Strout fighting with Fanny Scamander for a spot behind the drapes.

"Why are there so many witches here?" he hissed. "Sirius doesn't know all these people."

A devilish laughter lit Ginny's brown eyes, but just then Kreacher's voice could be heard outside.

"Go inside, old Dog-Master. Master Harry and Young Mistress is waiting in the drawing room for you."

"What kind of lousy party is this?" asked Sirius, his voice a trifle slurred. "No guests, no balloons, no fireworks…"

"Ah, but there _will_ be fireworks," whispered Ginny softly as the door opened.

"Harry, I'm very disappointed…" he began.

"SURPRISE!" came the shout from a hundred throats as magical guests erupted from every corner of the room. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIRIUS!"

A flash burst in his face as Rita Skeeter appeared. "Have you any comment on having released the news of your Animagus status publicly, Sirius?"

"Wha? Huh? What's going on?" asked Sirius, swaying dizzily.

"Dear cousin Sirius, many happy returns of the day," cooed Narcissa Malfoy, carefully kissing the air next to his cheek. "Andromeda is here somewhere too. We wouldn't miss this chance for a family reunion with you, cousin."

Harry wondered if Sirius's eyes were going to explode, they were staring so hugely. He noticed Kreacher wheeling a cart with a punch bowl on it into the room. The liquid was pink and fizzy looking and the witches began crowding around to taste it.

"Delicious," said Sibyll Trelawney, refilling her cup and downing it eagerly.

"Gin, this is mad," he said. "I don't trust the Malfoys one inch. I want them gone."

"It's okay, so sit down here. Professor Snape talked with old Lucius for a while and gave me the high sign that he won't be trouble. The Malfoys want their social standing back, so they'll behave."

Harry sat down. He watched in horror as Professor Sinistra went up and began fawning, there could be no other word for it, upon Sirius.

"What's she doing? Doesn't she know the guy eats rats?" he asked.

She frowned faintly. "It's odd, isn't it? You know, I was saying to Professor Snape that I wished Sirius would get married and have a life of his own. You don't suppose Kreacher…"

"Used a love potion in that funky looking punch?" he asked, horrified. "Oh God! Your Mum and Hermione are over there! And Professor McGonagall!"

* * *

Instantly Harry pulled his wand and conjured his Patronus, sending it toward the witches. He gaped in shock, however, because his Patronus was not a stag. It was a gleaming silver… phoenix!

"Did you see that?" he gasped. "It changed!"

The phoenix flew across the room and dashed the glasses out of the witches' hands, making them all turn and stare.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, striding across the room to where he sat with Ginny. "What happened?"

"I think there's love potion in that pink punch. Don't let people drink it!" Hermione hurried back and Vanished the contents of the punch bowl.

Your Patronus changed!" exclaimed Ginny. "What does it mean?"

"I dunno, but look at all those witches!" he said frantically.

Sirius was nearly submerged in a sea of witches, all clamoring for his attention. His eyes were bulging as he stared helplessly around.

"Harry! What's happening?" he screamed as Professor Trelawney got him in a headlock and tried to drag him out of the room. "Help me, someone!"

At his words, a grey-haired witch leaped into action, Stunning the Seer with a flourish.

"Come with me, sexy man," she crooned, grabbing Sirius by the wrist.

"Not so fast, hag," snapped Professor Sinistra, picking up the copy of _Nature's Nobility_ and batting the witch over the head.

"Thanks, Professor," gasped Sirius.

"One little kiss, hot stuff," she said, her eyes gleaming.

"No!" he shrieked, running to cower behind Harry and peering out fearfully.

"Poor fellow, you need professional care," murmured Healer Strout compassionately, pulling on a magical latex glove.

Sirius yelped and clung to Harry. "What's happening? This is a terrible party!"

From all directions witches were converging on them, reminding Harry of an old Muggle movie about zombies.

"What's going on, Padfoot?" asked James, bouncing up and down on the chain around Sirius's neck.

"There's a bunch of mad witches here, acting insane," replied Sirius. "They're attacking me!"

James looked out at the throng of witches, all shapes, sizes and ages of them.

'Looks like you're going to meet your dream witch this evening, Padfoot," he smirked. "I like that one over here with the red hair. Happy birthday, mate!"

That's Ginny! My wife," snarled Harry viciously.

He gazed over at Professor Snape's portrait and saw the wizard struggling to maintain his composure. When their eyes met, Professor Snape was forced to turn his back, but his shaking shoulders showed Harry that there was no help to be had from that quarter. He stood up, drew his wand and screamed, "STUPEFY!"


	27. Party Games

Party Games

Sirius crouched behind Harry's chair, panting and staring around the crowded drawing room in horror.

Unconscious witches were strewn everywhere, although a few people had escaped the powerful spell.

"Most interesting, Potter," said Lucius Malfoy with an admiring sneer. "You certainly know how to offer unconventional entertainment to your guests."

He stepped gracefully over Miriam Strout and flipped Sibyll Trelawney over with his cane to remove her bony leg from his unconscious son. The sight of a late arrival to the party made him blink.

"Good evening, everyone," said Kingsley Shacklebolt with a genial smile. "I didn't expect people to be passed out this early. What on earth are you serving for drinks, Harry?"

Harry groaned, realizing that Kreacher could be in big trouble if anyone realized he had dosed a whole party full of witches with love potion. "Um, one of the guests must've decided to play a little prank. They put love potion in the drinks, so I had to Stupefy all of these poor ladies to keep them from molesting the birthday boy."

Kingsley glanced behind Harry. "Happy birthday, Sirius," he said, his voice full of suppressed laughter. Many happy returns of the day."

Sirius stood upright and stared at the wreckage in horror, speechless for once.

"Well, Padfoot, I wish I could have been alive for this one!" caroled James from his vantage on Sirius's chest.

"What's this?" asked Kingsley. "A portrait of James? Amazing!"

"Indeed," murmured Lucius. "I fear the presence of so many infatuated females is wasted on my dear cousin-in-law. His greatest passion, even at Hogwarts, seemed reserved for Potter's late father."

"Ew," murmured Ginny, a remarkable idea entering her mind.

"Ginny, are you all right?" asked Molly, remarkably still conscious as she came to examine her daughter.

"Fine, Mum," she replied impatiently. "Why aren't you unconscious like everyone else?"

"I still have my reflexes," said Molly. "When Harry pulled his wand, I ducked behind Fanny Scamander. Say, is that Rita Skeeter lying in the corner? Perhaps we should…"

"No!" exclaimed Harry nervously. Normally he rarely contradicted his mother-in-law, but there was a look in her eye that made him want to cringe.

Lucius Malfoy revived his wife and son and they conferred briefly amongst themselves. Then they stepped over the bodies of Harry's victims to approach their host.

"It has been a remarkable event. I cannot wait to read the society page in the Prophet tomorrow," Lucius proclaimed graciously. "This will undoubtedly be recalled as the social event of the year, but I fear we must be off, Potter. We shall definitely add you and your lovely wife to the guest list for our next soiree."

Lucius nodded politely to the Minister of Magic. "Shacklebolt, it has been a pleasure."

Numbly, Harry watched Narcissa smile sweetly at Sirius. Draco's smirk was the most insufferable, and Harry's wand hand itched to hex him. But the sight of the Malfoys leaving his home cheered him slightly, so he turned instead to survey the damage.

"I suggest that you administer antidotes before Black's remarkable harem is revived," suggested Professor Snape from his vantage point on the wall. "The alternative would be amusing to watch, but once the potion wears off, I fear mass suicide would take place among the, erm, enchanted concubines."

"Good idea, Snape," said Kingsley briskly. "I'll send for a couple of Healers from St. Mungo's with a bucket of antidote potion."

He strode to the fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo powder and stuck his head into the green flames.

Harry turned to the shocked Animagus. "You'll never have a party like this one again," he murmured with a mocking smile. "Happy Birthday, Sirius."

"I can't believe this! How could you? It wasn't supposed to be like this!" snapped Sirius, finding his voice at last. "Where did all these freaks come from? Why didn't you just resurrect my bloody mum and invite her too? This is like a knife to my heart, Harry. I'll never forgive you for it!"

"Harry," murmured Molly quietly.

But Harry was focused on his spoiled brat of a godfather. "I thought Gryffindors are supposed to be brave," he said coolly. "But you couldn't face a social gathering where people ate something besides raw sausages and succumbed to alcohol poisoning, could you? So those witches came on to you, you should be flattered, even if it took a potion to make it happen! You eat RATS, Sirius! Your personal hygiene is revolting! Now stop haranguing me, because I have a houseful of unconscious, potioned guests I have to revive and send away!"

"Harry…" moaned Ginny. "It's time…"

"And another thing… WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY, GIN?" asked Harry, turning to see his wife standing by Molly, a pool of liquid growing at her feet.

"My water broke. The baby's coming," she said. "And the midwife is over there, unconscious on the floor."

"OMIGOD!!" screamed Harry, the color draining from his face as he rushed to her. "Gin, let me get you to bed. Damn these idiots. Kingsley, have the Healers revive Madam Smethwyck first!"

"Run along, Harry. I'll handle things here while you see to your wife," said the Minister soothingly. "Your midwife will be the first one on her feet again, I promise."

Harry nodded hastily. He put his arm around his wife and they walked slowly out of the room, followed by Molly.

"She'll be fine, Harry. I'll help you get her settled upstairs, but it'll take hours for the baby to be born," she told her distraught son-in-law. "You should help Kingsley get rid of all these people."

Harry rolled his eyes at the idea of leaving his wife.

"She's right, Harry," said Ginny. "I want to know that mass of lunatics is out of our drawing room as soon as possible. Help me into bed now, and don't worry about missing anything back here. There'll be plenty of time after that to stare at me and time the contractions."

When Ginny was settled, Harry went into the hall. "Kreacher!" he called softly.

The ancient house elf appeared before him, looking slightly frightened. "Yes, Master Harry? How can Kreacher help?"

The memory of Sirius quivering like a mass of middle-aged jelly in the face of that love-struck female mob suddenly struck Harry as pretty funny. He couldn't be angry at Kreacher's long-deserved revenge.

"Ginny is going to have her baby tonight. Please stand by and if they need anything up here while I'm downstairs, bring it to Mrs. Weasley."

The elf beamed up at him. "Kreacher will be here to help. Kreacher remembers the night that Master Regulus was born. Kreacher will bring tea and hot water and towels and…"

Harry grinned at the elf. "I see you know just what to do," he said gently. Thanks, Kreacher. I'm going down to cancel Sirius's party now."

Kreacher hastened into the bedroom and Harry went downstairs, wondering if he could just Vanish the lot of them to wherever they all ended up. The midwife passed Harry as she came out of the drawing room and headed upstairs, blushing. It seemed that Kingsley had things in hand, Harry thought in great relief.

"What can I do to help?" he asked as he entered the drawing room.

Two Healers were carrying a bucket and dippers around the floor, unceremoniously pouring a dull blue liquid into the mouths of unconscious party guests. Kingsley had cornered Sirius against the wall and was speaking to him in a low, soothing voice.

Arthur Weasley was one of the first revived and he sat up, clutching his head. "What a night," he groaned. "As usual, I don't remember a thing that happened at the party. Molly's going to kill me!"

One by one the guests, male and female, were revived and began mimicking Arthur's confused behavior. Harry turned to see what Professor Snape was doing and, unsurprisingly, found his formerly grim teacher leaning back in his chair, shaking with laughter. When their eyes met, Snape convulsed, laughing harder than before.

"Thank you, Potter!" he gasped. "The sight of Sibyll attempting to ravish Black in the middle of a party was marvelous."

Harry chuckled, trying not to lose it completely before the guests were all gone.

"Was this _your_ idea, Professor?" he asked, striving to be stern.

Snape howled with laughter. "Try that again, Potter! I _dare_ you to behave like a responsible adult to me. That was even more hilarious than Black's cowardly antics!"

Harry rolled his eyes, appreciating the irony, but once more there was a distraction.

"Come here, you gorgeous Animagus! We're fated to be together! Come to Sibyll," cooed Professor Trelawney as she lurched toward Sirius once more, silky scarves and shawls trailing behind her.

A Healer pulled his wand and Stunned her. She fell at Sirius's feet, muttering under her breath. Sirius was quaking like an aspen, his eyes wide with horror.

"I wonder why the antidote didn't work on her," the young man mused.

"Because she probably downed five or six cups of that bloody punch, compared with one for each of the others," called Snape with a genial smile. "Or perhaps she is Black's soul mate, destined to make his life complete."

Sirius howled with fury and pulled out his wand, advancing on Snape's portrait. But Kingsley slapped the wand out of his hand.

"It's against the law to threaten a Hogwarts Headmaster's portrait," he said, a cold warning gleam in his dark eyes.

"I can't believe I was in love with Sirius Black," mused Luna Lovegood as she climbed to her feet. "Of course I've always been fascinated with Stubby Boardman, but I thought he was better looking than _that_…"

With a dreamy smile, she waved to everyone and drifted out of the house. One by one, others followed and the crowd in the room grew thin.

"Sirius, you have a wand. Why don't you help your godson by reviving some of these people?" asked Kingsley as he worked alongside Harry and the Healers. "You know, his wife is having a baby soon! Now, in fact, so he could use some help!"

"What? The baby? Little Sirius James Potter?" asked Sirius, his eyes lighting with excitement. "Why didn't you say so?"

"More like little Lily Belinda," said Harry defiantly, praying that the baby would be a girl.

Sirius grinned cheerfully and hastily began rambling around the room, reviving people and thrusting them toward the door. He avoided Sibyll Trelawney however, heading for a victim in the far corner, partially obscured by the couch.

Harry revived Ron and George. "You two are lucky you didn't touch the punch," he said as they both glared at him. "You should've seen the light of love shining in Percy's eyes. I stopped him just in time to stop him from snogging Sirius senseless."

Both wizards stared at him in shock, then burst into delighted laughter.

"Wait! Where's Hermione? She didn't drink the stuff, did she?" asked Ron, turning a pretty shade of pale green.

"I stopped her in time," said Harry. "We didn't realize until it was too late that K- someone put a love potion in the punch. Your mum, Hermione and Professor McGonagall were spared."

"Thank heavens," muttered Ron. "Where is she now?"

"Over there, helping the Healers," said Harry.

"Why didn't she revive me first?" he asked indignantly.

Harry shrugged and turned away, trying to decide what to do next. He noticed that Sirius had actually revived one of the victims, a slender, black-haired woman he didn't recognize. It was unusual for Sirius to be helpful, but there were at least fifteen more to be dealt with.

"Harry!" called Rita Skeeter, looking much the worse for wear as she staggered up to him. "What would you like to tell my readers about having invited the cream of wizarding society to your home and then poisoning them?"

The Quick Quotes Quill was already writing busily, but Harry simply smiled.

"My brother-in-law caught a marvelous picture of you groping the birthday boy in that scrum," he said. "If you write any of this, I'll sell the photo to the Quibbler. You two looked hot together."

Rita blinked, glanced at Sirius briefly and then closed her eyes, looking rather ill.

"He smells of… Merlin! Never mind," she moaned, Vanishing her quill and tearing her notebook to shreds. "You win, Harry."

She took one more defeated look at Sirius and then tottered to the door, seeming to have aged twenty years in the space of two minutes.

"Nice work, Harry," said Kingsley. "You handled her brilliantly. Who took the picture of her?"

"No one. I made the whole thing up," said Harry wearily. "Gods, I'm knackered, but I have to get back upstairs to Ginny. Do you think they'll all be gone soon?"

"Go take care of your wife," said Kingsley. "I have nothing on tonight so I'll get rid of them all. Once the coast is clear I'll Floo back to the Ministry and collect the magical naming certificate. We can fill it in as soon as the baby's born. With the bureaucratic rubbish out of the way, you'll be all set to begin your Paternity Leave."

"Thanks, Kingsley, you're amazing!" exclaimed Harry. "Shall I help toss Sirius out? He gets bored easily and he's a real pain when he's bored."

"Actually, I want a closer look at your father's portrait, so I'd like to keep him here. But go on up to your wife and don't worry about anything here."

Gratefully, Harry shook Minister Shacklebolt's hand and hurried out of the room; eager to be present for the birth of his child.


	28. Welcome, Baby!

Welcome, Baby!

Harry and Ginny Potter's son was born shortly before the dawn. Once the midwife had taken care of practical matters, the young couple was left alone. Harry sat in a comfortable chair, holding the tiny newborn and gazing down in wonder at him.

"He's amazing," breathed Harry for about the twentieth time in an hour. "You're amazing, Gin. We're very lucky."

"You two look so sweet together," said Ginny, smiling wearily. "Will you have to go to work today and officially sign out?"

He shook his head. "No! And Kingsley must still be here. He said he'd bring the naming certificate himself, and sign me out of work. I should go down and tell him the baby's here."

"Let Kreacher bring him upstairs and we can both watch him fill in the naming certificate," she said. "I want to show our little sweetheart off to someone."

When summoned, Kreacher entered the room with a tray. A plate of sandwiches, biscuits and a fresh pot of tea made Ginny perk up.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she murmured gratefully, taking a sip of tea. This is just what I needed. Would you ask Minister Shacklebolt to bring the paperwork upstairs? I don't want to take advantage of his kindness any longer than necessary."

Kreacher looked inscrutably at the new family, nodded and left the room. A few moments later, male voices were heard on the stairs.

"You can't keep me from showing Jamsie's grandson to him," snarled Sirius.

"They asked for me to bring up the naming certificate, and I wonder what they'll say when they know what you've done," said Kingsley, his voice icy with anger. "Why couldn't you escort your new _girlfriend_ home and come back later?"

The wizards tried to enter the bedroom at the same time, but Sirius elbowed the Minister of Magic roughly aside.

"Oi! Harry! Let me see little James Sirius!" he exclaimed a little too loudly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "His name isn't James Sirius, and try to be a bit more quiet. Ginny's exhausted and needs some peace."

Sirius loomed over Harry and the baby, causing Harry to hold the infant protectively close.

"Look at that! My grandson!" shouted James's portrait. "Nice work, boy!"

Harry sighed. "Is everyone gone from downstairs? No more harem, Sirius? As soon as we sign the papers, Ginny and I are going to sleep for as long as we possibly can and the midwife's going to lock the door behind you."

"It's a shame you couldn't have had him on my birthday, Ginny," said Sirius, beaming at her. "I know you did your best, though."

"All right, step aside, Black, and let me show these two what a mess you've made of things," said Kingsley, frowning at the exuberant Animagus.

"What is it?" asked Ginny, beginning to worry.

"This is your magical naming certificate," said Kingsley. "As soon as the baby is born, the name inscribed here is officially, irrevocably assigned to the child. When Kreacher came down to tell me the baby was born, I turned my back for ten seconds and then discovered that this _idiot_ had picked up the quill. You see the result!"

In the space marked _First Name_, Sirius had managed to write _Jame. _The last letter was a bit smudged, as though the quill had been ripped hastily from the writer's paw. The rest of the certificate was still mercifully blank.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "_Where's my bloody wand_?" she snarled. "_How dare you, you smelly old GRIM?_"

"Now Jill," said James with a condescending smirk, "Sirius did what was best for a helpless child. While you two were still under the spell of that ugly git, you might've blighted my first grandson's life forever. This is best for all concerned."

Harry stared at the parchment, wondering if there was any way to undo this mess. He noticed Kingsley whispering to Ginny, and the feral gleam was fading from her eyes.

"May I finish the certificate, Harry?" she asked gently.

"Sure," he replied, an eyebrow rising in curiosity.

Kingsley handed her parchment and quill. She studied it for a few long moments while Sirius fidgeted at the foot of the bed.

"Did you forget how to spell Sirius?" he asked anxiously.

"Not at all," she said in a dangerously soft voice as she began to write slowly and carefully. "There we are, Kingsley, all finished.

Looking down, the Minister grinned. "A fine name for your child, Ginny. Congratulations. Now if Harry will sign these forms, he'll be officially on Paternity Leave as of this morning."

Harry handed the baby to Ginny and went to the table, where he first looked at the naming certificate, where the complete name had transformed into indelible golden ink. Looking over at Ginny, he laughed proudly.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, moving on to sign the other documents.

"What?" asked Sirius suspiciously.

"Everything is fine here, so I'll take my leave of you," said Kingsley. He shook Harry's hand warmly, carefully kissed Ginny's cheek and waved a casual farewell to Sirius. Then he was gone.

"What did you do? His name's James Sirius Potter, isn't it?" asked Sirius.

"Meet my lovely little Janus James Potter," said Ginny brightly.

"WHAT? WHAT KIND OF NAME IS _JANUS_?" shrieked the Animagus, his face contorted with anger. "Where's the Sirius?"

"Standing in front of me and having a tantrum," said Ginny coldly. "Quiet! You'll scare the baby. This is _our_ child; I gave birth to him and let me tell you, IT HURT! I'll name my baby what I choose. You may call him James if you want to, but I like the name Janus, so build a bridge and get over it!"

The baby began to cry, a tiny sound like a cat in distress. Harry pushed the Animagus out the door and toward the stairs.

"You're scaring the baby!" he snapped furiously. "Go home, Sirius!"

He thrust the Animagus downstairs, following to be sure he actually left the house. But a voice from the drawing room distracted them both.

"Sirius," called a deep voice. "Are you ready to leave? I've just been waiting here quietly, but this big portrait guy on the wall is staring at me and it creeps me out."

Harry stared into the drawing room and for one second thought he was looking in a mirror. A witch stood there, but one with long, unruly black hair, a thin face and sparkling hazel eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling dazed.

"We didn't get to meet earlier, but we seem to be distant cousins. I'm Pat Potter, from Canada. I got this invitation to your godfather's party and decided to come, since I don't know many people over here. What an amazing scene!"

It was unnerving. Pat Potter looked almost identical to James Potter, but in a dress. Glancing at Sirius, Harry saw a sparkle in the gray eyes that he'd never seen before.

"I'm sorry to have taken so long, Pat," he said. "Why don't you come to my house and I'll make breakfast for you. I hope you like chipolatas. Then I'll show you around my native land. We can visit with your cousin Harry when he's not in such a grouchy mood. He's never at his best when he's doing his devoted husband routine."

Harry wrenched his shocked gaze away from his newfound relative. "Good idea, Sirius. Pat definitely looks hungry and although I feel like a terrible host, I've been up all night and plan to go to bed now. It's been good to meet you, Pat. I hope to see you again."

"Excellent," said Kingsley, ushering the pair toward the door. "Enjoy little Janus, Harry, and I'll be in touch soon."

The door slammed and Harry pointed his wand at it.

"_Colloportus!_" he said irritably, returning to the drawing room.

"Congratulations, Potter," said Snape. "I hope the child will find decent people to emulate, rather than those two heroes."

"Was it a scene? With Sirius filling in the naming certificate, I mean."

"Seeing the Minister of Magic threaten to magically affix Black's head to the floor of a public toilet was quite entertaining. But it is a shame if Black managed to interfere with Ginny's wishes."

"She handled things with her usual flair," said Harry. "Running the lines of an "m" together to change it to an "n," and then changing an "e" into a "u." The baby's name is Janus James Potter."

"Really," said Snape, looking intently into Harry's eyes.

A moment of mutual evaluation showed them that they both understood what the name meant without need of further discussion.

"She is a determined young woman," murmured Snape, his eyes glinting with amusement and some other emotion.

"Um, Professor, where did my long-lost cousin come from?" asked Harry quickly.

"Canada, I believe," said Snape mockingly, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Harry scowled. "You know what I mean. Is there any chance that Sirius might have found the witch of his dreams and will leave us alone?"

Snape's mouth twitched, but he controlled it before speaking. "I wonder if Black has found the, erm, love of his life."

"It's almost too good to be true. Do you think they'd leave us alone?"

"Only time will tell. However, the Minister of Magic has requested my presence back at the Ministry. I shall stay here for the rest of the day, if Ginny will be able to come down to show off her child and say goodbye. I will likely be away for a long time, they tell me, as they have begun excavating the foundations of the old Rosier and Gaunt houses. There have been several portrait caches found and I am to draw out as much information as possible from them. There will undoubtedly be more out there too," said Snape, his face becoming expressionless.

Dismay filled Harry. He and Ginny had talked of how marvelous it would be to have Professor Snape with them as little Janus grew, being a part of their family. Even as a portrait on the wall he was now a very important part of their lives.

"We'll miss you, Sir," he said with a pang. "Will you be able to come back when the job is finished?"

"I do not know, Potter. Spending time in that chamber with only other portraits is necessary to accomplish my goal, but it will inevitably change me at some point. Like Professor Dumbledore is changing, becoming more distant from the living world and losing all sense of time."

Snape stared briefly out of the window before he looked back at Harry.

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" asked Harry. "He needs you too, Sir. He'll miss you terribly."

Snape nodded curtly. "If I am ever to be away from my task, I shall go to see him. The others will also care for him. It is an inevitable process and they have all undergone it."

"Um, is it easier to be a portrait after that change occurs?" asked Harry slowly, staring painfully at Snape.

"They say it is," Snape said rather dreamily. "But those who say it were able to live a fuller life…" After a pause, he murmured, "I thank you, Potter, for speaking up that day in Minerva's office. My life was an empty thing. It was necessary for my work, but this time I've spent in your home has meant…"

Harry nodded, unable to speak.

"You look in need of rest. I shall spend some time with Professor Dumbledore this morning and return after your lunch, if that is acceptable," Snape told him. "You are a father now, Potter. Rest so you may take care of your family, and I'll see you later."

Harry smiled at Professor Snape and watched the wizard walk out of his frame, then sat down on the couch. In the space of one day he had become a father, but now he was losing Professor Snape. He felt strangely hollow. Eventually he lay down and gazed up at the empty portrait until he dozed off.


	29. Changes

Changes

The afternoon flew by, and Harry felt as though he stood by a loved one's deathbed through it all. He couldn't bring himself to tell Ginny that Professor Snape had to leave, knowing she would take it better from the wizard himself. She was utterly exhausted, but beamed when Snape arrived in his portrait.

"Congratulations, Ginny," he said with a small smile, sitting down in his chair. "Not only did you successfully give birth, but your child has his proper name in spite of Black's idiocy."

She grinned at him. "I knew you'd appreciate my little victory. I felt practically like a Slytherin as I adjusted the writing on the naming certificate."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking closely at her.

"It was hard work and a bit scary, but everything went all right. The midwife said I should be patient about recovering."

Snape nodded, smirking. "Patience was never your strong suit."

She pouted and said, "Mum told me that's going to change. She says that when you have a child, patience is essential."

He said nothing, merely smiling ironically as he studied her.

"So what do you think of little Janus?" she asked, holding out the sleeping newborn for his inspection.

"He does not yet seem to resemble his father, so perhaps he won't be a dunderhead," he said mockingly.

She laughed, her eyes glowing with amusement. "I wish things had been different when you were alive. But I guess we could never have really known each other, the way everything was…"

"There was a grim inevitability to the events of my life, I fear, combined with an evil, mistaken choice on my part," he said quietly. "I am glad to have had this time with you now."

Her eyes narrowed and she asked, "Are you leaving us?"

"The Ministry is recalling me to continue the work I have been doing and it looks to be a very long task," he told her. "I shall leave tonight."

"I see," she said, her brown eyes filling suddenly with tears. "Will we ever see you again, Professor?"

"I do not know. But Ginny, I am merely a portrait, here to help you deal with the idiot Black. You and Potter have finally shown yourselves to be very capable of dealing with him, so my job here is done."

She stared rebelliously into his glittering eyes. "So this was all just a job?" she asked, gulping back a sob.

He said nothing, but simply looked at her seriously for a long time.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "But you can stay for the rest of the day, right?"

He nodded. "You missed the most interesting part of the party last night, aside from Black being mobbed by adoring witches, of course."

Ginny brightened and said, "That was a memory I'll keep forever, even though I was a bit preoccupied by the start of labor. What happened after Harry Stunned them all?"

"Shacklebolt and the Healers began applying antidotes to the victims, reviving them and sending them away. Potter avoided having the party on the front page of the Prophet with a clever tale worthy of Slytherin, and it seems Black has found the love of his life and will henceforth have less time to harass you."

"One of those witches?" she asked in fascinated horror. "Did the love potion fail to wear off for one of them?"

"Well, Professor Trelawney had a second go at Black, thanks to her immense capacity for alcohol, but not her. In fact, I hesitate to commit myself to assigning a gender to the person."

Harry choked, recovered and asked, "Is my newfound cousin a drag witch?"

Snape smirked.

"Um, did Sirius ever have the slightest interest in girls while you were at Hogwarts? Last night, when Lucius Malfoy said…" Harry stopped, appalled yet with a strong urge to giggle madly.

"I have no first hand knowledge of Black's, um, doings. I also do not generally indulge in idle gossip," he replied austerely.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, wide-eyed.

"I wondered last night, when Lucius Malfoy said that," said Ginny. "It explains a lot about Sirius, if it's true."

"Pat Potter is definitely a baritone," said Harry, snickering. "But I suppose time will tell."

A small chime rang nearby and Ginny said, "It's time for me to feed the baby, Professor. Will you need to flee the room? I'll be discreet."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Feed the infant. While you do, Potter may pepper me with questions about his bloody useless godfather, which I shall not answer."

Ginny was surprised that Professor Snape would remain in the room. She arranged a soft shawl and rather clumsily got little Janus settled at her breast, looking curiously at him once she had the leisure.

"Humans are mammals," he told her acerbically. "If wizards are such idiots as to be offended, that is their problem." Smiling slightly, he added, "You'll be an excellent mother, Ginny. Try not to doubt yourself."

Ginny's eyes overflowed with tears then, and Snape stared in consternation.

"I'm sorry," he began.

"No!" she said, weeping as she spoke. "It's hormones. I'm stupidly emotional right now, although Mum says I'll gradually get back to normal. But thank you, Professor. You have a knack for knowing exactly the right thing to say to make me feel better."

She wiped her eyes and looked down to make sure the baby was still feeding. She needed a distraction before she drove poor Professor Snape away with her horrible tears, she thought.

"So you won't give me the goods on Sirius?" asked Harry, frantically searching for a distracting topic. Gagging slightly, he added, "If he really did have, uh, feelings for my dad, I hope it wasn't mutual."

"It might have been better for your mother if that had been the case, in my opinion, of course," sneered Professor Snape. "But your father was always obsessively bent on gaining your mother's attention. And that is all I'll say on the subject."

"Good," said Harry. "The whole subject makes me feel like puking."

"When will you return to work, Potter?" asked Snape.

"I'm the first Ministry employee to be testing the new Paternity leave program, designed to encourage wizards to be more involved in their children's' lives. Hermione wrote the new policy, of course."

"One hopes it will be more successful than her attempt to free house elves against their will, but knowing wizards…"

"I dunno if it'll be successful in the long run, but," Harry sighed faintly, "I never had a chance to know my own parents, so I want to spend as much time with my son as I can. I'll be off for up to three months, and Kingsley has offered to extend it if I want to pursue Sirius's mysterious portrait maker when I'm not busy here at home."

"How delightfully open-ended," murmured Snape. "You'll be in contact with Shacklebolt then, won't you?"

"Of course," said Harry, reading the subtle message in Snape's eyes. "I hope if Sirius is successfully distracted by his new, er, friend, I'll be able to poke around and find the portrait maker. Kingsley's offered to help me."

Ginny finished feeding the baby and Summoned Kreacher.

"Will you ask the midwife to watch the baby?" she asked. "I'm sleepy and I'd like to take a nap for a bit."

"Kreacher will do it, Young Mistress," he said, disappearing instantly.

When the midwife came, she examined Ginny and the baby, looking pleased at their condition.

"Rest as long as you can and I'll bring him down to you for the next feeding," she said. "I should leave by noon tomorrow, if your mother will be here by then."

"Knowing Ginny's mum, she'll probably be here before sunrise," said Harry. "Don't worry, and thank you for your help, Madam Smethwyck."

The witch nodded pleasantly and left with the baby. Ginny snuggled against the pillows and was almost immediately asleep.

"I may see you occasionally at the Ministry," said Snape in a low voice as he watched her sleep. "But I could make no promises to return here, and it seems easier for all concerned if I say goodbye to her now."

"Will you let the portrait stay here?" asked Harry.

"If you wish it. Actually, even if I may not return, I like knowing it still exists."

"You know, I can see how Professor Dumbledore is changing, but you don't seem the slightest bit changed. At least, I don't see any signs," said Harry thoughtfully.

"I feel little different than when I was alive, although it is chafing to be so alert and limited to existing on a wall. Dumbledore warned me, shortly before he began changing, about clinging to my human existence. Although this is one of those rare cases where the old man didn't understand," Snape said slowly. "And I don't know why I'm speaking of this to you, except that there is no one else."

"Is there anything different about the way your portrait was created? I mean, is there, um, more of you present than in the other Headmaster portraits?"

A silence fell and Harry watched, fascinated, as he realized that his former nemesis was deciding whether to tell him something important. When Professor Snape looked up, Harry remained respectfully silent and attentive.

"I've never found it possible not to care, Potter. But it was nearly impossible to speak of my feelings." Flushing, he continued. "You've seen my memories, so perhaps you'll understand. Even after your mother's death, when I assumed I'd never care for anyone again as long as I lived, I was mistaken."

Harry nodded solemnly. He had gradually realized, as years passed, that Professor Snape was a passionate, generous-hearted man. A lesser man would not have been driven by remorse to devote the rest of his life to fighting Voldemort and protecting James Potter's son. A lesser man would not have shown such love and loyalty to Albus Dumbledore or struggled valiantly to save innocent lives.

"Although in my lifetime I fully expected to die at any moment after I returned to the Dark Lord, Dumbledore knew my life was not a finished thing," said Snape softly. "Recently he warned me about becoming involved in the affairs of the living, of becoming attached, in fact. But after all my errors in life, as a portrait I still chose impulsively and find the consequences difficult to accept."

"If you have unresolved issues, why aren't you a ghost?" asked Harry.

"In life I was not a complete fool, nor was I afraid to move on."

"I never thought so. But your portrait self has unresolved issues now and it's hard to watch. I _know_ you've gone on, Professor, and you're really okay. But I want the you in this portrait to be okay too."

"Eventually I suppose I'll join the others in soporific service to Hogwarts," said Snape. "I'm sorry to burden you with this."

"It's okay," said Harry, seeing that the subject was now closed. "So if I'm lucky, will I see you at the Ministry?"

A faint, sad smile touched Professor Snape's mouth. "I imagine you may. I'll be consumed with this job for the foreseeable future, but I must report to Shacklebolt and the Unspeakables from time to time. It is better for Ginny, I believe, if I do not attempt to return here, because my future in this world is uncertain."

Better and less painful for you too, thought Harry, knowing he did not dare to say it. He simply nodded.

"You'll stay this evening, won't you?" he asked. "Ginny's going to miss you madly. In fact she told me the other day she was a fool not to have had a crush on you when she was a student. It depressed me a bit."

Professor Snape stared for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed, shaking his head.

"How lucky that she had better taste!" he exclaimed, glancing fondly at the sleeping young mother. "Merlin, Potter! That was one of the vilest aspects of teaching." He shuddered. "Those spotty, needy little girls staring with their vacant eyes. Imagine trying to teach such dimwits while they were busy writing odes to the boil on my left buttock!"

"You knew?" gasped Harry. "I had no idea until Ginny told me the other day."

Snape rolled his eyes. "No teaching for you until you can dodge hormonal brats when they're headed for your office, hoping for a tête-à-tête. Minerva had many a laugh at my expense, let me tell you, since it was decades since students had revolting fantasies about her."

Harry snorted, imagining if he'd known when he was a student.

"I know, it was ludicrous," said Snape with a wry smirk. "But it's one of the perils of teaching, one which Dumbledore neglected to mention until I was cornered by a student in my second year of teaching. I was forced to Stun her in order to escape. After that, I was extremely cautious."

"Lucky thing I'm not a teacher," said Harry, shuddering.

"On the other hand, you did a fair job during your fifth year, while the Umbridge worked ceaselessly to prevent any of you from learning DADA. Many staff members thought you had a gift for teaching."

"Did you?" Harry grinned mischievously.

"I was perhaps not the person to recommend you, given your blatant lack of effort at learning Occlumency."

"Oh, ah… I'm really sorry, Sir. I knew I was being a jerk. I felt like I couldn't help it, although that really wasn't true."

Snape smiled, and Harry knew that the past was truly forgiven, even as he now had only respect and affection for his old teacher.

"I did like it," said Harry. "Teaching, I mean. When they actually got it, when they left knowing more than they knew before… I liked that a lot."

"If you're ever bored with your current position, I imagine you would be welcomed at Hogwarts," suggested Snape.

They sat in silence a while longer, but it seemed that everything had been said at last.

"I should check on the baby," Harry said reluctantly. "I'll be back in a bit, but since Ginny will wake up soon, I suppose this is goodbye for now."

Snape nodded, his eyes glittering strangely. "Thank you, Potter. Enjoy your family and your life. I hope to see you again."

Harry felt tears pricking at his eyes. "Thank you for my life, Sir. I'm glad I had this chance to know you."

Although Snape would be there a few hours longer for Ginny's sake, Harry knew that for him, this was truly goodbye. As he went to check on his newborn son, his tears fell unchecked.


	30. And Baby Makes Three

And Baby Makes Three

The next few weeks had an odd, distorted quality for Harry. He had naively thought that after Ginny gave birth, things would easily settle down to a pleasant routine. He had not reckoned on the frequent demands of a newborn, which must constantly be met.

Molly Weasley stayed with them for the first week, and the rest of the noisy Weasley clan was in and out of the house at all hours of day and night. It was mad, fun, exhausting and stressful. The new parents completely lost track of day and night for a time. Harry was relieved when his mother-in-law finally began sleeping at the Burrow, only coming during the day to help care for the baby. He and Ginny did most of the childcare, though, and Kreacher helped with household chores. Ginny was recovering her energy and she was, Harry realized proudly, a wonderful mum. He wished Professor Snape could be there to see her.

Snape's absence had triggered an ongoing sense of loss for him, and Harry often wondered how the wizard was managing. He had a nightmare one night, in which he was trapped in a frame and hung on a wall facing the portrait of Maximus Black. The cruel wizard told him tales of torture and described killing in the name of discovering immortality for himself. Harry woke sweating and ill. It took a moment to realize the screaming in his dream was in reality the wail of his hungry son.

Sirius had not returned to their house since the night of his remarkable party, but his mischief was still felt. Two days after the birth of Janus James, Ginny opened the _Daily Prophet_ and shrieked with fury.

'_BIRTH OF A POTTER!' _screamed a huge, front-page headline. The story, written by Rita Skeeter, was based on a rambling conversation with Sirius, of course.

"_My godson Harry named his firstborn son after his courageous dad, of course. Little James looks exactly like my best friend, and it touched my heart to see the lovely tyke," exclaimed the recently returned Animagus. Mr. Black was thought dead after a fierce duel with Death Eaters, but his miraculous return has been celebrated by Harry Potter, as well as the entire wizarding world."_

There was a picture of Sirius in the ratty old drawing room at Grimmauld Place, striking what he seemed to think was a heroic pose. He was clutching his wand as though ready to do battle. It didn't quite work, however, and Harry winced at the goofy sight.

"When I told that idiot that he could call the baby James, I didn't mean in a front page newspaper story!" fumed Ginny, her eyes blazing. "When I see him next, he'll be Bat-Bogeyed for the rest of his short, agonizingly painful life!"

Ron and George were present, having dropped in without warning. In the ensuing days they delighted in teasing their sister by calling the baby James. Harry took Ron and Hermione aside and explained how much it irritated Ginny, but not the reason why the name Janus was so important. It was too late, however, and the baby became known as James to friends and neighbors alike. Owls bearing parcels and letters of all kinds arrived, carrying good wishes to little James Potter from wizarding folk all over the country.

One month to the day after the birth of his son, Harry finally felt able to leave Ginny and the baby for a short time. He decided to pick up the trail of Sirius's mysterious portrait maker once more.

"I'll be gone for a few hours, if you'll be all right here," he told Ginny. "I'm getting nervous about Sirius staying away from us this long. After that bloody article in the Prophet, I'm afraid he's capable of anything."

"Mum's coming soon, so Baby and I will be fine together for a bit. I want you to make Sirius sorry he ever meddled in our lives, Harry," she said. "I hope you find something outrageous so you can tell me about it. I haven't laughed enough since Professor Snape left."

"Oh, Ginny… I miss him too," said Harry, giving her a consoling kiss. "I hope he's okay. Maybe Kingsley will at least tell me if they're making progress. I'll go there first and ask about him."

Her face lit up. "I know he can't come back here and hang around like before, but I want to know he's okay. I wish we could do something to help him."

"You helped him have fun for a little while," Harry told her. "He never laughed much in his life, did he?"

"He was really _funny_ sometimes, though, even though he probably didn't mean to be. And when he was mad at _you_, he'd hiss, '_POTTER…_' in that voice, and we'd all hope to see him disembowel you like you were a horned toad." She sighed. "He was so amazing…"

Harry chuckled reminiscently, remembering the icy, disgusted tone in Professor Snape's voice whenever he was mad at him. He'd never imagined he'd miss hearing that voice.

"Well, I should go, so I can get my bearings. It's been over a month since I did more than wonder about what's going on."

"Have fun, then, and I'll see you when you come home," she said.

Harry kissed his wife and bent down to the cradle, caressing the soft down of his baby son's head.

"See you later, little guy," he said. "Try to work on your sarcasm technique while I'm gone, okay?"

The infant slept on, oblivious, so with a fond smile, Harry headed out to hunt for a portrait maker.

* * *

Harry considered taking the direct approach and simply walking up and knocking on the door of Number Twelve. He had a cowardly urge to delay, however, and decided he should ease back into his investigation gradually. He Apparated to the Ministry of Magic and headed for the Minister of Magic's office, where the pretty secretary announced him without delay.

"Harry! How are Ginny and the baby?" asked Kingsley with a warm smile. "I hope you haven't been pestered to death by your famous godfather."

"We've had a very quiet month. So quiet that I'm wondering what fresh disaster Sirius is going to stir up next," said Harry. "He sent a tiny broom to the baby last week, addressed to James Potter."

"Ah, I'm sorry about that. In spite of Ginny's best effort, Sirius managed to manipulate that situation. I couldn't believe it when I saw that story in the Prophet. I can't imagine how he teamed up with Rita Skeeter."

"Sirius is nothing if not obsessed with having his way," Harry said irritably. "I think he may know better than to get near Ginny and her wand after that story. We haven't seen him once since then."

Kingsley chuckled. "She takes after her mum, no doubt about it. But what brings you here today, Harry?"

"I'd like to pick up the investigation of Sirius's portrait maker, so I thought I'd see if he's done anything outrageous in the past few weeks. And Ginny and I were wondering if you can tell us how Professor Snape is," he finished, rather embarrassed.

"We took his portrait out a few days ago to debrief him," said Kingsley, staring intently at Harry. "We've discovered more centuries old portraits, and Snape is giving us information about ancient Dark practices so vile we can never let the knowledge see the light of day again. His work is going to revolutionize our understanding of magical history. "

"How is he?" asked Harry.

"Harry, don't worry. This isn't the real Professor Snape, so he can't be hurt by this," said Kingsley with a reassuring smile.

It was inconceivable that he would betray the portrait wizard by explaining that this was not exactly true, so Harry merely said, "I suppose you're right, but he seems so real, and Ginny's grown so fond of his portrait."

"Ah, I do know how women can be when those hormones of pregnancy take control," said the Minister with a jovial air. "Tell her that Professor Snape's fine. He was an amazing spy during his life and he does a flawless job for us now. He is the consummate professional."

Harry nodded, trying not to show his impatience. Of course Professor Snape would get the job done, but it sounded horrifyingly grim. Such horrors would take a toll on anyone, and he now knew his old teacher better. The portrait Snape would do the work, although he suffered for it.

"Tell him Ginny and I said hello, when you next see him," said Harry.

"I'll do that," said Kingsley. "Now, have you any plans for dealing with Sirius?"

"I haven't seen him since his remarkable birthday party. I wonder if my odd new cousin is seeing him. I never found out where, erm, she's from."

"It's amazing how your cousin Pat looks exactly like your dad. I had no idea there were any members of the Potter family still alive. I wonder if this, er, person wishes to inherit something based on a relationship with you."

Harry blinked. "Is that possible?"

"It seems unlikely," said Kingsley. "But if you learn anything about her origins, I'd be interested in knowing. In fact, if you'd like I'll ask my secretary to go through a few records here and find out where Pat Potter came from."

"Thanks. In fact, I guess I should go through that bloody book, _Nature's Nobility_, to see if I can figure out what the story is."

"I'll let you know if we find anything here."

"And I'll stop back here to see you when I've learned something," Harry promised. "See you later, Kingsley."

Harry left the Ministry, very disappointed but not surprised that he was unable to see Professor Snape. He felt like a needy pest, but also had a feeling, deep down, that Professor Snape would have wanted to see him. But it was time to get to work, so Harry stepped into an alley and covered himself in his cloak. Invisible, he headed for Number Twelve.

* * *

There was no sign of life from outside, thought Harry as he took off his cloak, reluctantly preparing to knock on the door. A strange hissing noise drew his eye to the sickly tree across the street in the square.

"Psssst! Master Harry!" hissed Kreacher, his eyes bulging as he gesticulated wildly. "Why is you here?"

"Kreacher! Oh Merlin, I asked you ages ago to keep an eye on Sirius, but I didn't mean you had to do it forever! No wonder you haven't been around home much lately. I'm very sorry!"

"Kreacher is helping Master Harry and Young Mistress! Kreacher wants no more of cruel, ugly portraits, and Old Dog-master is always going to make more trouble," said the old elf, his eyes glowing with love.

Harry smiled. "It was a lucky day for me when I met you, Kreacher," he said. "Let's sit down here and you can bring me up to date on what, um, 'Old Dog-master' has been up to lately."

He glanced around, then sat down with his back to the tree, pulling his Invisibility Cloak over his head and gesturing Kreacher to join him under it for a short discussion.


	31. A Visit to Number Twelve

A Visit to Number Twelve

"Master Harry, please help Kreacher's Old Mistress," said Kreacher urgently. "Old Dog-master has woke her up and screams at her. Kreacher was glad when Old Mistress went to sleep, when she stopped guarding her house."

"Did you go inside?" asked Harry curiously.

"Dog-Master has gone outside today with the blabbing portrait and the stranger, so Kreacher went in to see the house." He gazed pleadingly at Harry. "Kreacher knows Old Mistress is a portrait, but she is sad now and is needing to go back to sleep."

"Is Sirius home now?" asked Harry.

"He is just back now, and with the Potter person too. Kreacher escaped through the old chamber where the portrait people was living."

"I'm going to talk to him. Will you go home and see if Ginny needs help with anything? This is the first day I've left them."

Kreacher beamed trustingly at him. "Kreacher will go to help Young Mistress. Be careful with the Dog-man, Master Harry."

Harry grinned reassuringly as Kreacher disappeared, and then considered his approach. Making sure he was behind the tree, he removed his cloak and headed for the Black family home. He knocked on the door of the old house that had been his for a few years.

"Harry!" exclaimed Sirius, throwing the door wide open and gesturing him inside. "She finally let you off the leash, did she? Come on in! Potter and I were just trying to decide what we should do this afternoon. I think we're going to play a prank on the stupid Aurors."

"Sirius, I _am_ an Auror," said Harry, glaring at him.

"TRAITOR! UNWASHED FILTH AND VILE DISGRACE TO THE NAME OF BLACK!" screamed Mrs. Black's portrait. "UNGRATEFUL SCUM! MISERABLE FLEA-BITTEN MONSTROSITY!"

Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed, and Harry could see what Kreacher meant. The old woman's portrait had not been so enraged since before Sirius fell through the Veil. It was a hideous and painful thing to see.

"Mrs. Black, it's Harry Potter," he said soothingly, approaching the portrait. "Kreacher is worried about you, Ma'am. He wants you to go back to sleep."

Harry reached for the covering that was lying on the floor under the portrait as he spoke. The bloodshot gray eyes calmed briefly, but the sight of her son's haggard face made her eyes bulge with fury and she continued her tirade.

"Go to sleep, Mrs. Black. Kreacher and Regulus want you to sleep now," he said firmly, magically affixing the hanging over the portrait and turning to Sirius.

"Why'd you do that?" asked Sirius indignantly. "Telling off my sweet mum is one of the high points of my day!"

"I can't stand to listen to it. Why on earth did you wake her?" he asked indignantly. "That's sick, wanting to go back and forth arguing with a poor, mad portrait."

"Is someone here, Sirius?" asked a low voice. "Ah, it's my Cousin Harry. Hello!"

Harry turned to discover his mysterious cousin Pat strolling out of the drawing room. At Sirius's party, she had looked like a witch, but now Harry was unsure whether he was looking at a hazel-eyed witch or a slender young man.

"Hello," said Harry, unable to keep from staring as he remembered his conversation with the Minister of Magic. "Since we seem to be related, we should probably get to know each other."

Pat Potter affected an extremely feminine appearance. It was the middle of the afternoon, but she wore her long, dark hair in an artfully disheveled sort of bun thing, thought Harry. Her robes were a rich Gryffindor red and clung to her thin body. She seemed very much at home.

"We do need to get better acquainted," she murmured, batting excessively lush, dark eyelashes. "But Sirius and I have been planning to go out soon, for a little fun. I'm going to change clothes, Padfoot, and we'll get started."

Pat sashayed up the stairs and both wizards watched her go.

"Where's the portrait of my dad?" asked Harry, noting the absence of the chain with the miniaturized portrait.

"Well, Jamsie is a little jealous of Pat," confided Sirius, a smug smile on his haggard features. "I haven't known Pat very long, but coming from another country and trying to settle in a new place is hard. So I suggested that the old barn has plenty of stalls and room for a guest, but now James is mad at me. He went out with us earlier, but now he's hanging on the drawing room wall."

"Really?" asked Harry. "What's Cousin Pat's plan. Getting a job? What does, erm, she do for a career?"

"Yeah, right! Getting a job…" sneered Sirius. "Pat's an adventurer like me. We can't be tied down by a dreary nine-to-five at the Ministry. Pat's like a Marauder!"

Harry wondered what the real story was with his new cousin, but Sirius was acting oddly evasive.

"Do you mind if I go to see the portrait?" he asked.

"Finally beginning to appreciate your old dad, are you?" asked Sirius. "Go right ahead!"

Harry headed for the drawing room and found his father's portrait hung carelessly in a corner.

"Well! Come to see your father at last? It's about time! Has old Snivelly gotten on your nerves yet?" asked James, a definite pout on his painted features.

"I came to see how you are," said Harry, eyeing the portrait closely. "I imagine being a portrait is pretty boring. You didn't sign up for this when you were alive, after all."

"Actually, I did!" he replied with a triumphant smirk. "Back at school we used to chat up the Headmaster portraits when Dumbledore sent us to his office. Sirius told us _we_ could be portraits someday and we made a deal!"

"Really?" Harry's eyebrow soared upward.

"Well, I never thought how boring it would be," muttered James. "Especially now, when Sirius is wasting his time with-"

"Hello cousins!" chirped Pat, sailing into the room with Sirius following. "We really should spend some time getting to know each other, but now Siri and I have some errands to run, so we must ask you to leave, little Harry."

Harry stared in some surprise. His new 'cousin' was now dressed all in slinky black, and putting a hooded cloak on. He looked at his father's portrait and saw James looking angry and rather unhappy.

"I, um, have to go home and see how things are going," he said. "I just wanted to say hello and see how you're doing."

He allowed himself to be herded toward the door. Glancing back, he saw that Mrs. Black's portrait was still covered and hoped if that was all he'd been able to accomplish, that she would stay that way.

"Goodbye, Harry!" called Sirius, waving as the door closed between them.

Harry stared at that solid door for a long minute before he Apparated away.

* * *

He entered the drawing room at home in quite a hurry. The room was empty and he surmised that Ginny and the baby were napping. He paused and gazed longingly at the large empty portrait on the wall, wishing Professor Snape might be there to talk things over. But there was no life in the portrait, so he headed for the desk and wrote a hasty message on a piece of parchment.

Opening the window, he Summoned a large owl from a nearby tree, fastened the message to one bony leg and sent the bird on its way.

"Harry! I didn't know you were here," said Molly Weasley, entering the drawing room."

"I just got home. How are Ginny and the baby?" he asked.

"They're fine. She fed the baby half an hour ago and they're both sleeping. I started your supper. It's simmering on the stove, and now that you're home, I'll be off to the Burrow."

"Thanks," said Harry with a grateful smile. "Um, may I ask you a quick question before you go?"

"Of course, Harry," she murmured fondly.

The question led to several others, and it was another half hour before Molly took her departure.

After he closed the door and out of sheer habit he murmured, "_Colloportus._"

Heading for the stairs, he went to look in on Ginny and the baby. Little Janus, as they continued to call him, was sleeping, but Ginny's eyes were open and she smiled at the sight of him.

"I'll be right there," she whispered, reaching for her robes.

Harry went downstairs and began preparing tea, knowing Ginny would be ready for a bite of something.

"You're wonderful," she said, entering the kitchen and giving him a grateful kiss. "I'm starving, as usual. And tell me, how's Professor Snape?"

He smiled and said, "_I'm_ fine thanks."

"I can see that. But did you see him at the Ministry? Is he okay?"

"I didn't see him, but Kingsley did, just a few days ago. He says he's fine, and not to worry."

"Did you tell him to give my love to Professor Snape?" she persisted.

Harry began laughing. "Did you hear yourself say that? Doesn't that sound weird to you?"

Ginny glared. "It's not the least bit weird," she snapped. "Even after the poor guy's dead his portrait has to go on protecting our stupid world and nobody cares. But I miss him!"

"Sit down and have something to eat," he said soothingly, recognizing that hormonal thing that Molly had warned him about. "I'm sorry I teased you."

Realizing she was acting disturbingly girlish, Ginny controlled herself with an effort and ate a biscuit.

"What did you find out in your travels through the wide world?" she asked.

He told her of all he had done finishing with the odd visit to Grimmauld Place.

"Who _is_ Pat Potter?" she asked. "Your relative? She looks like your father, but I thought everyone was dead. How can you have a living relative and not know it?"

"That's what I need to know. I sent an owl to Kingsley asking him to find out as soon as possible. I hope we'll find out by tomorrow sometime. I hate to think what those two are up to. I also need to talk to my dad's portrait alone. I can't believe what he said about planning to have a portrait when they were all at Hogwarts. Is that where this whole plot was hatched? What if Sirius decided to create a Lupin portrait too?"

"Would Remus act like such an idiot if there was a portrait of him?" asked Ginny in fascinated horror.

"I think it takes a strong mind and a serious purpose to stay sane in a portrait. It makes me sick to think of someone I knew in his life becoming like the Black family portraits."

Ginny looked rather depressed at the turn their conversation had taken, so Harry tried to dredge up a fresh topic.

"How's our brilliant child?" he asked. "Is he ready for Quidditch yet?"

"Maybe next week," she replied, cheering up slightly. "We should go check on him, because he'll be waking up and demanding to be fed very soon. You can change his nappy and I'll set the table for supper."

"Okay. You know, I thought it's supposed to be a pain, having a mother-in-law, but your mum's the best. Is she driving you mad?"

"Actually, no. The boys all said she'd be around bothering us all the time, but when she's here she does useful stuff. She hasn't criticized me once for doing the wrong thing with little Janus," she said, brightening. "Of course, it's early days…"

Harry chuckled as they went up to watch the miracle child sleep. He was still surprised to be a dad, and hoped he'd learn to be a good one as his son grew older.


	32. A Surprise

A Surprise

An owl arrived shortly after supper, bearing a fat packet. Harry was just finishing the dishes when Ginny called him to the drawing room.

"Harry, there's an owl from the Ministry," she exclaimed. "Come and open it!"

He hurried to pay the owl and send it off, and then opened the packet, wondering what it all could be. He opened a short note first.

_Dear Harry,_

_I don't know what I expected to learn about Pat Potter, but this was quite a surprise. Let me know if there's any way I can help._

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

There was a magical poster enclosed. Harry began to unroll it and it expanded and straightened itself, revealing a colorful sight. Harry hastily used his wand to affix it to the wall and he stared, his eyes bulging. Ginny gasped and choked back laughter. It was Pat Potter, as large as life, wearing a glittering dress, slit up to here and down to there, that clung to her thin body. Her poster self sparkled so much she was blinding, but the name under her simpering image was Leonie L'Amour.

"I'm covering the baby's eyes," said Ginny, giggling uncontrollably. "Uh, _I'm_ not actually related to… that, am I?"

Flashing letters announced a club called "_THE ENCHANTED SUCCUBUS!"_ It seemed to be located in Montreal, which Harry vaguely recalled learning was part of Canada. In smaller letters it advertised _"Wand-Waving Action - By the Boys and For the Boys!"_

"Am I blushing?" asked Harry, feeling amazingly foolish. "And does this mean what I think? I think Pat's definitely a man!"

"A man who enjoys being a girl," Ginny howled, collapsing into gales of laughter after carefully placing the baby in the cradle next to her.

"Do you think Sirius knows?" asked Harry, recalling the intent gleam in the bloodshot gray eyes.

A grin of pure evil joy appeared on her face and she said softly, "Do you realize what this means? It explains why he was so horrified by all those witches that Kreacher invited to his party. Oh, Harry! I wish Professor Snape could be here! He'd just love that poster!"

"I couldn't be in the same room with Professor Snape and this poster," he said weakly, his thin cheeks flushing a vivid scarlet. "Merlin, Gin, she-er, he, I mean…"

"Call her she," suggested his wife, smirking relentlessly. "It seems to be what she's calling herself, and that's as far as I want to explore the subject."

"Well, _she_ looks way too much like my dad in a dress. It reminds me of when Professor Lupin helped Neville turn a boggart into Professor Snape in old woman clothes. Except this," he eyed the poster and shuddered, "I think this is much worse!"

"You mean you couldn't see Professor Snape's, um…"

"NO! I don't even want to imagine! OMIGOD! Stop, Ginny!" Harry exclaimed. "And this… Pat person is hanging out with Sirius. She's staying at Grimmauld Place. And they were going out to have an adventure."

"I wonder if there's a club in London like that one in the poster," she said. "Maybe Sirius is hitting the club scene with her."

"Well, I suppose this explains why he's not really interested in, um, actual women. So does this really mean that Sirius is… uh,"

"Gay?" finished his wife ruthlessly. "I'd say so. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. _That's_ not what makes him so bloody obnoxious. But Professor Snape must have suspected, at least, and Kingsley too. Why didn't they just _tell_ us? For that matter, what's Sirius's problem? Can't he just be honest instead of squirming when people nag him to get married and settle down?"

Harry had turned a greeny-pale color and hastily turned away from the poster.

"What's wrong?"

"Gin, the only person he's ever cared about was my dad. Really, you don't suppose he… I mean they…"

He looked beseechingly at her, and in the face of his real distress, she grew serious.

"Harry, your dad married your mum. That's all. Whatever Sirius's feelings were on the subject, it's a fact," she said. She smiled encouragingly and added, "If Ron had a wild passion for you, would that have made you want to marry him instead of me?"

"God, NO!"

"Well, that's it. Luckily Ron never fancied himself my competition, so we can forget we ever discussed it. Now, what else did Kingsley send you? I hope there aren't any more pictures!"

It was hard to let go of this depressing, yet fascinating glimpse into what made Sirius tick, but Harry began reading through the pages of parchment that were enclosed.

"Where's that _Nature's Nobility_ book?" he asked distractedly, hardly raising his eyes from his reading.

Ginny pointed her wand toward the low bookshelf under Professor Snape's portrait and carefully Levitated the massive tome over to where Harry sat. He thanked her briefly and opened the book, reading carefully for quite a long time before he looked up and smiled faintly.

"Pat's actually a real relative of mine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Pureblood families can be crazy, can't they?"

"Who was her family?" asked Ginny impatiently.

"My great-grandfather's younger brother got into trouble and seems to have fled the country just ahead of the Aurors. His name was Thom Potter. He was Pat's grandfather. Magical society across the sea was pretty sketchy, but there's a record of a _Patroclus_ Potter, born on March 27, 1963."

"A boy!" said Ginny, smirking.

"Looks like it. I wonder what's up with Pat and Sirius. I mean, if they're happy, I don't care. But Pat seems to make him act even crazier than usual. I don't want to spend the rest of my life bailing Sirius out of trouble."

Little Janus began whimpering, so Harry set down the parchment and both young parents forgot the rest of the world as they fussed over the baby.

* * *

The portrait subject known as Janus Nigellus wondered why no one had told him that emotions felt every bit as toxic and overpowering in his portrait existence as they had in life. He longed to turn his back on the ancient portraits assembled around him, but it was impossible. Until Ministry officials came to remove his portrait from the chamber once again, he must continue this charade. He wondered how long he had been there, listening to their ugly tales. But suddenly he found himself the focus of their united attention.

"Nigellus!" exclaimed a haughty wizard of the Rosier family. "I was speaking to you! You will not ignore me!"

Scowling, Snape replied, "I am not yours to command, Marcus Rosier. I did not ask to be imprisoned among you arrogant swine and I prefer my own thoughts to anything you might say."

Maximus Black watched this brief exchange and he spoke icily into the resulting silence.

"It seems that even a half-blood Black can deal with your pathetic self-aggrandizement," he hissed. "I hope that my descendants have continued to exhibit our hereditary superiority."

Snape wanted to roll his eyes. Even more, he wished he could show the monster in no uncertain terms what inbreeding had reduced the family to. If an advantage could be gained, he would find a way to do it, but only if he could concoct an excuse for knowing what Janus Nigellus could not possibly know.

"Nigellus, I beg your pardon if my tone was offensive," growled Rosier sullenly. "But all of us are pure-bloods. How can your portrait be among _us_?"

There were now no fewer than forty portraits in the small gallery and all eyes focused more intently upon the subject of this discussion.

"Did any of you consider your obsessive arrogance a disadvantage to accomplishing your life's goals?" asked Snape coolly.

"Arrogance?" replied Rosier. "I know my own worth, and that of my descendants. There can be no higher being than a pureblood wizard."

"Ah, I see." Snape began to wish, not for the first time, that this ugly, artificially aged portrait could have contained a comfortable chair and a bottle of firewhiskey. He had lived abstemiously, but the hate-filled atmosphere he was trapped in made him long to seek oblivion. He schooled his emotions and said slowly, "I did not choose your company. My portrait was buried deep until it was discovered by Aurors and placed here. You're all disgusting, the biggest bloody bores in the history of our world and I'd much prefer that my portrait be destroyed by trolls than be among you."

A Malfoy in an elaborate portrait, Snape couldn't remember which one he was, studied him closely but remained silent.

"Impudent whelp!" hissed Maximus Black. "Show some respect for your superiors."

The ancient portrait wizard raised his wand and shot a silent green spell toward Snape.

"_Protego!_" murmured Snape lazily, barely moving his wrist to repel the attack. "My superiors? The idea of portraits dueling is pathetic, old man. You merely display your impotence."

A faint muttering could be heard from several portraits, hastily stopped when Maximus turned to glare around at them. He, at least, was a known quantity among many of them and they feared him.

Snape felt the cold eyes upon him once more, but bickering with them was not going to be productive. It was far better to allow the others to reminisce about the ancient evils they had practiced. Resolutely he took up a formal pose in the hard wooden throne chair and closed his eyes, expecting to be attacked by Maximus. But he realized that the Patriarch had turned his attention to another.

"What have you to say for yourself, my whinging grandson?"

One of the Sirius Blacks, the grandson whose portrait had hung next to Maximus in the hidden gallery, moaned and jumped.

"Noooo…" he moaned, covering his face with his bony hands. "Send them away! I'll do anything you say, but don't let them near me!"

Snape wished he could block the sound. When no better entertainment was offered, Maximus would torment his grandson. The pathetic wizard would scream and moan, unable to fight off tortures and demons that had been planted in his mind over the centuries. The effect on the other portraits was terrible. Each of them wondered, if Maximus turned on them, whether they could resist or would become the next drooling madman.

Periodically a new portrait or two was added to their number, and two Ministry employees removed his portrait one time to be debriefed. But he did not know them and was returned to the gallery all too soon. So the time passed, although he quickly became unable to tell whether days or years were passing. He wondered if he had been forgotten sometimes. He wondered how Potter and Ginny were, and how Dumbledore was faring without him. He missed the old man, but knew the other Heads would care for him. The dreary repetition of old cruelties, the arrogance and the meanness assaulted his mind and although he would do his duty as always, he wished for oblivion.

* * *

Harry and Ginny celebrated Baby Janus's two-month birthday alone with him. They were both tired of bonding with the ever-active Weasley clan, whose support after the baby's birth resembled a tidal wave of love and energy. As the baby grew a bit, he began to sleep longer at night, allowing his parents to get some desperately needed rest. Now, as the reality of parenthood was starting to sink in, they were trying to figure out what their family life would be.

"Happy birthday, little guy," said Harry, smiling at his tiny son and offering a finger to hold.

Little Janus was sitting in a bouncy chair on the kitchen table. He smiled brilliantly at the sight of his father.

"Blow out the candle for him," Ginny said, grinning at her besotted husband.

Harry admired the little cake for a moment before he carefully blew out the candle.

"It doesn't seem fair that he can't have any of his own cake," he said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He couldn't care less, and you know it. He'll have plenty of cake in his life, Harry." He expression softened. "He's going to have a good life and lots of people to love and take care of him, right?"

She knew the scars of Harry's miserable years with the Dursleys would be with him as long as he lived, although even now he rarely spoke of his childhood. Wishing to distract him, she changed the subject.

"Will you try to get into Grimmauld Place again?"

He started, and dragged his attention to her question. "Maybe they'll both be gone long enough to give me a chance to get in. Sirius isn't wearing my dad's portrait around his neck when he hangs out with Pat. I imagine my dad's going mad from boredom by now."

"I know you've been busy here, and we love having you home so much, but dealing with the portrait problem is important, Harry. Stay as long as you need to, and get into that house. Kreacher's here if I need anyone to help me."

Harry sighed. "He's slowing down a bit. I'd never say it to him, but I don't want him to wear himself out."

"I know. I never thought I'd get used to having a house elf live with us, but the thought of losing him now… I hate it," she said softly.

"I want him to enjoy the time he has left," murmured Harry. "I guess that means letting him work. But try to keep him here, okay? I don't want him going near Grimmauld Place any more."

"No problem. Now, run along and we'll see you after you've had a heart-to-heart with your father's portrait," she said firmly. "I can't wait to hear what's on his tiny mind."

"You sure you want to know, _Jill_?" he asked mockingly.

"If you don't go now, I'll cook half a dozen chickens and invite Sirius for dinner!" she threatened. "Not to mention your scintillating new cousin!"

Harry shuddered and headed for the door. "See you soon," he smirked, blowing her a kiss and fleeing. As Ginny's husband, it was not often that he got the last word in, and he was laughing as he put on his Invisibility Cloak and Apparated off to play detective.


	33. Portrait Intrigues

Chapter 33

Portrait Intrigues

"Harry!" exclaimed James Potter, nearly jumping with excitement within his frame. "I knew you'd be back, kid! How're Jill and my little namesake?"

Harry bit his lip hard to prevent a nasty reply from escaping him. Getting information from his late father's portrait was a tricky proposition, and in fact it had taken several days of surveillance before he could find the house empty. These little talks could never happen, Harry realized, if Sirius and Pat were present.

"My family is fine," he replied coolly. "The baby seems to be getting a tooth. The midwife says it's early, but it happens sometimes. Ginny's a bit tired from his fretting."

"Ah, women do tend to whinge a bit about these natural occurrences. Your mum fussed endlessly when you were getting your first teeth, as though you were facing the greatest challenge of your life and might not survive it. Ha! Little did she know!"

"Well, that's all in the past," Harry replied, striving for a pleasant tone. "But how are you these days? I thought you traveled everywhere with Sirius, but I see him around with our cousin Pat lately. Did you have an argument with him?"

Portrait James scowled. "I can't believe we're related to that idiot! Just because someone has the good luck to resemble our family, doesn't mean they can claim us as relatives!"

Harry savored this moment briefly, and then said softly, "But Pat _is_ our cousin! I checked into it myself, and your grandfather's younger brother was Pat's. So you actually are second cousins."

"Hold onto your inheritance, son," snapped James. "Pat Potter is after something, showing up here after so many years!"

"Minister Shacklebolt is helping me assess the situation, and I'm not terribly worried for my family. But I wonder if Pat's taking something away from you," Harry suggested softly.

James glared at his living son, pressing his lips together tightly for a long moment. Then he growled, "Sirius is smarter than this. He's the last bloke I thought could ever be taken advantage of by a _woman!_"

His indignation made Harry wonder. Slowly he said, "Surely you don't think Pat is a woman. Our cousin's full name is Patroclus Potter. _He_ was born in Canada in 1963. And have you always known about Sirius's, erm, orientation?"

"Of course I knew!" shouted James, his painted face growing red with rage as he paced within his frame. "Merlin's rancid breath, Harry, he can't care about this bloody… Patroclus Potter!"

Harry paled at his father's words. A horrid idea had re-entered his mind, but he couldn't force the question that was filling him with horror, past his lips. Silence fell between them. The sound of the front door being unlocked sounded very loud.

"I have to go," said Harry quickly. "If you want me to come back, don't tell them I was here, all right?"

James stared in surprise, but then he reluctantly nodded. "I'll go mad if I don't have someone to talk to. Come back, Harry."

Harry hurried toward the kitchen and down to the secret portrait passage, now mercifully empty of deceased Blacks. He drew a deep breath, wishing he did not know so much about James and the Marauders. He was torn between outrage on behalf of his mum, and reluctant pity for the irritating portrait father he was trying to learn to talk with. It would be wonderful to go back, and not learn what he feared of his father's past. But he was a grown wizard, and knew the way lay forward. He resolutely strode to where his Invisibility cloak lay and put it carefully on. Then he opened the secret entrance and slipped through, more than ready to go home.

* * *

"Do you think he'll tell you what he knows about Sirius's secret portrait maker?" asked Kingsley, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "Sorry, but it's been a long day."

Harry nodded, grateful that he wasn't tied to a desk job. "I think eventually he will, but I feel like I'm betraying him. He's rather pathetic, you know. And it's incredibly difficult finding times I can get into the house. Sirius and Pat are so erratic I'd have to spend every minute of day and night watching them. And I can't follow them to see where they go, if I'm going into the house. Besides, they're not breaking the law, that I know of, so I have no right to follow them."

"You've grown up after your sleuthing childhood, haven't you?" asked the Minister with a faint smile. "I'm glad to see it. I prefer not to have any scandals involving Sirius hit the front page of the Prophet."

Harry fought down a shudder. The idea of Rita Skeeter and her ilk uncovering the secrets of Sirus and assorted Potters was appalling.

"Has Professor Snape discovered who might have made my father's portrait for Sirius?" he asked hopefully.

Kingsley shook his head. "We're learning more than we ever dreamed possible about the history of Dark wizardry in Britain, but they all believe the secret of magical portrait-making has been lost. They're not the least surprised that there are no more very lifelike portraits like themselves from the past century. I think it makes them feel special and important. And arrogant magical portraits are something we need no more of. Wizengamot members are disputing with Unspeakables about what to do with this collection."

"How _is_ Professor Snape's portrait? Has he managed to visit the Headmistress's office lately?" asked Harry, giving up the pretense that it was not important to him. "Professor Dumbledore's portrait is going through a difficult time there and needs him."

"We're expecting a new portrait to be delivered in the near future, so we need Professor Snape here for the nonce," he replied. "But as soon as we can spare him, he'll be allowed to return to Hogwarts. It's his primary function, of course."

Harry was perhaps hypersensitive to the scolding note in Kingsley's voice, but his questions subsided. With little more conversation, he said farewell and headed back to his office. He felt at a standstill, and needed to think of a fresh approach to the problem, if such a thing were possible.

* * *

"Hey, Ginny! I'm home," called Harry, surprised at how quiet the house was.

A note on the table in the sitting room explained their absence.

_Dear Harry,_

_Charlie surprised us all and has come home from Romania for a visit. Baby and I have gone to visit and plan to stay for dinner. Please join us when you get home. I hope your day was productive and you have tales to tell me._

_Love,_

_G_

Harry shook his head. Charlie was a great guy, but he wasn't really in the mood for a gigantic Weasley clan reunion. He wondered how long his brother-in-law would be visiting, since all of their lives would be chaotic while the family was clustered in Ottery St. Catchpole. Sighing, he glanced at the empty portrait on the wall, as he did daily, and headed for the bedroom to change clothes and prepare to socialize.

* * *

In the odd world of magical portraits, it was easy to lose track of time. Professor Snape was aware of this, having watched the progress of Albus Dumbledore into a soporific state that gradually carried him further from the world of the living. But Snape was no fool and he realized that, while he was bored and repulsed by his Dark companions, he was not yet succumbing to the timeless state of the other portraits. It was rather odd, he thought dispassionately. It was also unfortunate that he was too intelligent for his company.

"Nigellus!" growled the deep voice of Maximus Black. "Who are these wizards keeping us in this room? They speak with you, don't they? Why do they not speak with me? _I_ am the patriarch!"

One thing Professor Snape had found rather irritating was that several small lamps lighted the chamber, day and night. The light was brighter when Ministry workers were in the room, but there was no time that he could truly be free of observation. He could also see his companion portraits constantly.

The old wizard's burning eyes glared spitefully, but the former Headmaster was unmoved. Really, he thought, after dealing with the Dark Lord in his life, this impotent old monster was pathetic. And to be jealous of those dull interactions with the Unspeakables… It was Maximus's own fault that he refused to speak with the living when his portrait was maintained. He rolled his eyes.

"They are dull fools," he pronounced coolly. "As is this company. If I had known I would be unable to choose my company, I would never have considered this fate."

A new voice spoke. "So you consider yourself superior to your company? I hope that does not include me."

A witch stepped forward in the newest portrait, brought in an hour previously, which hung across the room. She had not spoken, or even allowed them to see her, but her voice was low and seductive.

"Ah, female company," he murmured silkily. "I am called Janus Nigellus, Madam. May I enquire your name?"

He was horrified to see an eighteenth century image of Bellatrix Lestrange remove her cloak and sit down in a purple velvet chair. Her eyes glinted with keen intelligence and he cursed himself for having wished for a challenge.

"Natasha Dolohov," she murmured with an exaggerated hint of an accent. "Delighted to meet you, my dear wizard.

A spluttering noise from Maximus caused Snape to sneer. "I must introduce you to Maximus Black, dear lady. He feels that he takes precedence over the rest of us."

"Were there others of your family with you?" asked Maximus abruptly. "Will there be more?"

"Am I not adequate company for you? You are not very gracious, Maximus Black," she replied with a mocking pout. "I much prefer your charming companion." She turned to Snape. "May I call you Janus? It seems silly to cling to formalities, since we may be here together until the end of time."

Snape nodded pleasantly. Already he had taken the measure of the woman. She looked to be a more well-mannered version of Bellatrix, and he imagined her story would be appalling. Most of these Dark portrait subjects had lived vile lives, full of cruelties and self-indulgence. Very few were witches, and this Natasha was the only one who had died in the prime of life. The others were extremely old, and mostly feeble of character. This one… He wondered, for the first time, if one could feel desire in this state. Not that he felt anything but revulsion for the witch, but she looked to be the kind who demanded admiration and sought lovers constantly during her life.

"Call me what you wish, Madam Dolohov," he told her. "And I apologize if I sounded arrogant, but we have been in this room, except for portrait maintenance, until I have lost count of time. A new voice is most welcome, under the circumstances."

She ran her eyes over him, studying his robes carefully. When did you live? Were you some kind of priest, during your life?"

"Merely someone who always found the excesses of fashion irritating," he replied, smiling thinly. "But tell me, lady, was your painting created decades before your death, or did you suffer an untimely demise? You are far more lovely than my previous counterparts."

"You flatter me, Janus," she purred, her icy, gray eyes fixed closely on him.

"Not at all," he said coolly. Look around you, Madam, and tell me that you are of an age with any of them."

"Well, I did die before it was my time," said the witch, glancing around evasively. "But where are we, and why are we being brought all together in this chamber? Are the magicks going to be performed at last? Where is the Dark wizard who has mastered the spell?"

"Silence, woman!" thundered Maximus Black, his face turning purple with rage. "You have no right to speak and this is not the time!"

"Really?" she replied haughtily. "Pardon me if I doubt you, old one. It appears that Janus Nigellus understands my meaning, and I think he knows more than he lets on. I was speaking to him, not you."

During this exchange, Snape was thinking furiously. What magicks? What spell would a powerful dark wizard need to master that concerned magical portraits. An idea came to him, too dreadful to imagine. To his knowledge, there was no Dark wizard in existence who was concerned with magical portraits, but… Calling upon his seeming eternal experience at deception, he composed his expression and waited for them to turn their attention to him once more.


	34. Talk of Portrait Affairs

Talk of Portrait Affairs

The Headmaster's portrait was removed from the dim portrait chamber and brought to a small, sunny antechamber on another floor of the Ministry. He waited only a short time before a wizard entered the room, striding quickly.

"Hello Professor Snape," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "My people tell me that you wish to speak with me alone."

"Shacklebolt," nodded Snape, studying the wizard closely. "Your people have removed other portraits for so-called maintenance over time. How much time has gone by since I was last removed from the chamber?"

"Four months," replied the Minister. "Why, does time matter to you in your condition?"

"Not in the way that it matters to you. But I wonder how Dumbledore is. When last I saw him, he was suffering some confusion and occasionally distressed."

"I'm sure the other portraits are with him, so he'll be fine," he replied in an offhand manner. "But you can't have asked to see me to enquire about another old Headmaster's portrait. What's going on in that chamber?"

"For most of the time, not much has happened. It is irritatingly dull. But there is a new portrait in the room. Where did she come from and what do you know of her?" asked Snape irritably.

"The veiled lady witch?" asked Kingsley curiously. "Why? Are you considering portrait matrimony, Snape? Is that a good idea?"

He scowled. "I despise being trifled with. You asked me to do a job, and I agreed. If you do not care to listen to my opinion, then let me return to Hogwarts. Even a portrait may prefer pleasant surroundings to this grim, tedious situation."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. I'll refrain from more inappropriate jokes. We found the lady's portrait in a most unusual place, and she was alone. But she was cloaked and completely covered. We only knew it was a magical portrait because of the elaborate framing and because the figure was so covered up. So who is she and what does she say for herself?"

"And you forgot to tell me where you found the portrait," said Snape mockingly. "A little respect may buy you much more cooperation from me. I work best with more complete information."

"Did Dumbledore consider you annoying, during your life? Because I find that you're bloody stubborn," said Kingsley resignedly.

"You also strike _me_ as insufferably stubborn, Minister," replied the portrait wizard almost pleasantly. "I see no reason why you cannot tell me precisely what you wish me to discover. Do you believe I will not keep your confidence? Who would I tell? Those bloody old monsters in the chamber?"

"Perhaps," he said. "Listen, I've been thinking about the sheer number of portraits we've been discovering. Why were they really created? Was it simply to continue to influence their descendents? Or was there another reason?"

Snape paused, slightly startled. "There may have been another reason," he said cautiously. "Where was Madam Dolohov's portrait discovered?"

"Dolohov, is that her name? The name is scratched off the frame, and only the dates remain: 1742-1785. I hadn't thought the Dolohovs were in this country so early." Kingsley stared piercingly at him. "Who is she, exactly, and what has she been saying to you?"

"Natasha Dolohov is unusually evasive, and she seems to enjoy verbal fencing. She has many questions for all of us, but has not even told us how she came to suffer such an untimely death. Frankly, if she died at forty-three, I must suspect murder."

"I'll have some research done and see what I can learn of her. As to where we found her portrait, one of our searchers was using several Dark Detectors to explore the village around Riddle Manor. We located the ruins of the Gaunt House outside Little Hangleton. About a mile south, we discovered the ruins of a fairly substantial wizarding manor house in the woods. It set all of the Dark Detectors off, from a distance and even after untold years. The building was collapsed, but there were several small outbuildings and a small private cemetery. The portrait was concealed in a tiny stone shed that seemed constructed to hide it."

Kingsley frowned as he continued, "_She _set the Dark Detectors off. I've had all of these portraits scanned in a variety of ways, but her portrait is more powerfully wicked than any of the others. Even Maximus."

They stared at each other, each taking the measure of the other.

"Madam Dolohov mentioned something," said Snape slowly. "Magicks, a certain series of spells to be performed by a Dark wizard. It concerns portraits, and Maximus nearly lost all control when she spoke of it. Since then, they've argue guardedly about it, but I have not learned the nature of the spells."

He waited then, watching the wizard process his words. It seemed that they both suspected the same thing, he thought, but neither was willing to say the words.

"Thank you," said the Minister, rising abruptly from his chair. "I must ask you to return and gather all possible information. It seems the Ministry will be fully occupied with secretly searching all of Britain for every possible Dark portrait in existence. I'll send for you when I know more. Perhaps you should pay a brief visit to Professor McGonagall's office now, since you may be occupied here indefinitely."

Snape nodded. He studied the Minister once more, noting the faint frown of anxiety on his brow. Then he turned and strode from the portrait. In an unusually impulsive gesture, he attempted to enter his portrait at the Potter home. He wondered if it would still be there, and was absurdly relieved to walk into their familiar sitting room. But the room was empty. He sat down in his chair and observed the gentle chaos of a child's home. There were toys scattered about, and a pillow and blanket on the couch that had been used for a recent nap. The sun shone through curtains that were different since he had last been there. It was a pleasant, peaceful room. He listened carefully, but the house was silent. After a few moments, he rose, examined his painted surroundings rather nostalgically, and then left the portrait.

* * *

Harry pulled his winter cloak tighter around his neck as he trudged through blowing snow to Hogwarts. He wondered why Professor McGonagall had sent an owl requesting this visit. As time went on, he felt more distant from his school days and the dramatic end of Voldemort's reign of terror. Perhaps being a father took one rapidly away from the memory of school years. As he approached the grand oak doors, they were opened by unseen magic. He strode inside, pointing his wand down to dry his boots and cloak. As the doors closed behind him, a figure appeared in the Entrance Hall.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," said the Headmistress. "Thank you for responding so quickly. Let us retire to my office, where we may converse uninterrupted."

They climbed the stairs side-by-side, and Harry marveled at the elderly woman's stamina. She had aged since the war and especially since Dumbledore's death, but she walked upright and, even upon reaching the gargoyle's statue, was not even slightly winded. He followed her in silence as she stepped onto the stairs, and she said nothing until the office door had closed behind them.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt is extremely evasive these days, and I am asking you if you can tell me what is happening, Harry," she said softly. "I feel I have the right to ask, because he has essentially hijacked Severus, and I must say I miss his counsel very much."

"You haven't seen him in all this time?" asked Harry, his eyes narrowing intently. "Professor, I've asked Kingsley if Professor Snape is all right, and he says that everything's fine. But I haven't _seen_ him since right after Janus was born. I don't understand this at all."

She gestured to Harry to sit down, and absently poured tea for both of them.

"I'm well aware of how serious this request is, but I am quite worried. A Hogwarts Headmaster's portrait belongs here at the school! I know that Severus willingly undertook to assist the Ministry, but I am responsible for his portrait's safety. What has Kingsley told you of this situation?"

Harry hesitated. He would be in deep trouble if anyone knew he had talked, but his trust of Professor McGonagall ran deep.

"You know that shortly after Sirius returned, I learned there was a cache of magical portraits hidden in a chamber under Grimmauld Place. They were removed to the Ministry, and a search commenced to see if others are out there. There were portraits discovered on the properties of some of the oldest, and often Darkest, wizarding families. Professor Snape was asked to pretend to be one of them, to learn of their origins and discover how they were created."

He paused to drink his tea, feeling as though he were delivering a lecture to his old teacher.

"Now, Kingsley says that the Unspeakables have used Dark Detectors on the portraits. Every one in the chamber is Dark, with the exception of Professor Snape, of course. Several are amazingly foul, and committed atrocities throughout their lives. This is bigger than anyone imagined, and he won't tell me everything. The reason I know this much is that I'm working on the case of my father's portrait, among several other jobs. There's a Dark taint to it, although nothing compared to the evil of the Ministry collection."

"But Sirius Black was responsible for creating your father's portrait!" she exclaimed, deeply shocked. "Did _he_ practice Dark magic?"

"Someone did," said Harry, trying not to show his distress. "Sirius leads such an erratic life that I can only rarely access his house and speak with my father's portrait. And _he_ is being evasive, afraid if he tells me what I want to know I'll stop coming to see him and leave him alone."

A few faint whispers reminded Harry that they weren't truly alone. He glanced around at the portraits on the wall, noticing that Professor Snape's was empty.

"Good evening, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling cheerfully. "You look very well."

"How are you, Professor?" asked Harry, rising to stand before him. "I'm fine these days."

"I'm quite erratic, according to Severus," replied the elderly wizard quite happily. "But since he is so rarely here, I don't see how he would know."

"Have _you_ seen Professor Snape lately?" asked Harry eagerly.

"Yes, just the other day… I'm quite sure that's when it was. He was quite stern with me, as he always is, but we played cards. He won, as usual." The blue eyes were no longer twinkling as he added; "He never failed me, not even when I asked the unthinkable. I wish he'd return to us here at Hogwarts…"

"Pull yourself together, Albus!" snapped Phineas Nigellus. "This maudlin moping does not become you, or in fact, anyone!"

"We'll discuss this later, but Harry is a busy young man. We must not keep him here all day," said the Headmistress firmly. "I expect that all of you will keep complete confidence regarding what Harry has told me, and those of you who have portraits at the Ministry, please continue to listen for more news."

Portraits nodded and murmured their support as Harry turned to leave. Professor McGonagall walked with him out of the office.

"I don't wish to speak in front of them, but Albus misses Severus terribly. The others try, but their relationship during their lives was closer than any of us knew, and Severus has a bracing effect on him that is very beneficial."

"I noticed. We miss Professor Snape too, Ginny does especially." Harry sighed slightly. "I wish I hadn't been such a jerk to him when he was alive. He's amazing, and there's so much I could have learned from him."

"I'm glad you appreciate him now," said Professor McGonagall bracingly. "We must hope that he will be back with us soon, and of course he is welcome to visit with you whenever he wishes."

"Thank you, Professor. I'll try to pry some information out of Kingsley, but security on this project is tight. If you learn anything from your portraits, or if Professor Snape returns, please notify me at once.

"I will," she said seriously. "Please give my regards to Ginny and the baby. Time goes so quickly as we watch children grow. I still remember your Sorting Day."

Harry nodded. She made him feel very young at times, but it was a good feeling.

"I'll be in touch when I learn something," he said. "See you soon, Professor."

As he walked slowly through the grounds of Hogwarts, memories filled Harry's mind. The school had been the scene of so many events that had led him to be the man he was today. Idly, he wondered if Buckbeak was still living in the Forest. As the gates came into view, he stepped faster. He had a wife and a wonderful son waiting for him at him this evening. Nostalgia would have to wait.


	35. FatherSon Bonding

Father-Son Bonding

"Where have you been?" screamed James, his portrait face contorted with rage. "I've been alone here for days, or maybe months! I don't even know! Why didn't you come before this?"

Harry felt a pang of guilt as he stared at his father's portrait. "I didn't know you were alone here. Where's Sirius?"

"He went away with that… Pat! He left me here all alone and said they'd be gone for a month! I can't believe it… I thought we were best friends! He didn't even care about me!"

The young Auror sighed. He had thought this business would be quickly resolved, but as more urgent problems had consumed the Auror department, his work had been time consuming. It was just over a year since portraits began invading his life. Now, he was completely unaware that Sirius had gone away from Grimmauld Place, and this would have been the perfect opportunity to work on James to divulge the secret of his portrait's origin. Who knew when the pair would return? He went to the window and pulled open the heavy draperies to let the afternoon sun blaze in, hoping as he did that doxies were not infesting them again.

"Sirius didn't tell me anything about leaving town, but I'm sorry you've been unhappy," he replied. "Where did they go?"

"He wouldn't tell me! All he said was that they were going on an adventure," said James, outrage draining from him as misery filled his hazel eyes. "And I don't even know how long they've been gone. Time doesn't feel the same when you're a portrait."

Harry silently cursed this wasted opportunity to win his father's confidence. Sirius may have left only a day or two before, or he might walk back into the house at any minute. He studied his father's painted face thoughtfully. He realized that the man's face was shockingly young, and had an unfinished look that made it hard to believe he was a father. Harry felt decades older than this portrait of a man who had died before he had learned much of what it was to be a father.

"Sirius and Pat don't want me to speak with you," he said gently. "But I'm not sure why. Do you know?"

James stared at him intently. "Why do you want to know? You're on Snivelly's side! Merlin… I can't stand the way my best friend is treating me."

Harry remained silent, trying to look sympathetic, and was finally rewarded for his patience.

"All right! Sirius thinks you want to know his business, and that Pat has convinced him that you want the house back. I dunno why he'd care about that, he always hated this grim old dump, but he's turned against you a bit."

"I don't want this place back. Ginny and I are perfectly happy with our place in Ottery St. Catchpole. The only thing that I wanted was for Kreacher to come with us, and he did."

"You didn't want me either," pouted James. "_If you'd wanted me_, I wouldn't have been abandoned here."

Harry sighed. This was getting further from telling the story of the mysterious portrait maker every minute.

"I think it's wrong to make a magical portrait for no good reason, if the subject is to be so much more sentient than normal portraits," he said slowly. "I don't understand why you're more like a Hogwarts portrait than like the Fat Lady at Hogwarts."

"Because a thousand years ago the Black family helped perform the spell that makes Hogwarts Castle create the Headmaster portraits!" exclaimed James impulsively. "The family kept the spell book in a secret chamber and Sirius knew where to find it. He nicked it and hid it years ago and he performed the old magick that created my portrait."

Harry's jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. He paced hastily back and forth several times, struggling to accept this news. It took a couple of tries before he found his voice.

"How in Merlin's greasy beard did he manage it? How does it work? Could he do it to anyone?" rasped Harry.

Visions of Sirius making magical portraits of every idiot who ever lived made Harry feel faint with horror as he waited for the answer.

"Of course not, stupid! It only works if you have a binding magical agreement with the subject before death occurs. We all, all the Marauders I mean, made the agreement together before we left Hogwarts!"

The drawing room looked nearly the same after that pronouncement, but Harry felt dizzy, or perhaps like the house had tilted drunkenly to one side. Had there been anything those four morons wouldn't do?

"Why?" he gasped, fighting nausea. "Why would any of you decide to do something so mad?"

"_We_ were the adventurers, we weren't afraid of anything. Once Sirius told us about this, we would've been cowards like bloody Snivellus if we didn't take this step." Gradually a frown appeared on the portrait wizard's face. "I guess we didn't know what it would really be like. Sir Cadogan and the others always seemed so… I dunno, fun!"

Harry managed to maintain a tactful silence as his father's portrait considered what his future would be. When James looked directly at him, he returned the gaze seriously.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea," he admitted grudgingly. "I'm stuck here alone. And Padfoot didn't perform the spell right away, he waited for years, until everything's changed and I don't know anyone."

"In fairness to him, he was in Azkaban for a long time, and then he fell behind that ragged curtain in the Ministry and took years to come back," offered Harry.

"Well I think he brought me back for himself. He wasn't thinking what it would be like for me!"

James paced within the frame impatiently, running his fingers through his mussed hair. Harry watched, wondering if his father's portrait was truly capable of learning. Professor Snape believed it was possible, he knew. But Sirius had created James's very lifelike portrait, and there was an odd distortion to the thing that was different from the true Headmasters portraits. Leave it to Sirius, with true Marauder arrogance, to lack some of the precision that the centuries-old castle magic retained. James would require careful treatment, lest he turn around again and tell Sirius everything.

"Erm," he began hesitantly, "I wonder if Pat knows about this spell and that Sirius created your portrait. I'm not sure that would be a good thing."

James scowled. "He didn't say anything while they were here, but they're gone for a long time now, so I don't know what he'll do."

Harry sighed. He gazed around the empty drawing room and noticed thick dust swirling in the afternoon sun shining through the window. It was a depressing empty place and he couldn't help but feel sorry for his father's portrait. Not sorry enough to inflict James on Ginny however. If James's portrait was going to remain free of darts and arrows, it must be kept far away from his wife.

"I wish we had more time to talk," he said slowly. "I don't trust this Pat Potter and I'm worried about this relationship with Sirius. I have to go now, but I'll try to find out how long before they come back, and I'll come to see you again soon, okay?"

"Can't I go home with you?" pleaded James with a winsome smile. "I hate being alone here and I'd be good company for young Jill and little James. He should get to know me, and since I'm not alive, this is the best I can do for him."

Harry managed to stifle his shudder at the thought of his father's portrait self capering around in that frame and giving dreadful advice to a helpless small child.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," he said weakly. "I don't think a portrait like you should be alone in a private home, but I'm not sure yet what would be good. Give me some time, okay?"

The scowl that greeted his answer told Harry that any change in his father did not run deep enough for him to be trusted completely.

"I'll come back tomorrow, I promise," said Harry, using his wand to close the drapes so all trace of his visit would be gone. "If they come back, please don't tell them I've been here or I won't be able to help you."

His portrait father nodded rather sullenly and Harry left, hoping that for once he'd have some time to deal with this problem before Sirius returned and the game changed completely.

* * *

Entering the Minister's office the following morning, Harry could feel the tension in the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt was as jovial as ever while his secretary was still in the room, but once the door closed behind her, the façade dropped away instantly.

"What have you learned, Harry?" he asked abruptly.

Harry studied the older wizard closely. Faint lines of stress that had not been there before he became Minister were showing and the dark eyes looked tired.

"I dropped in to check out Grimmauld Place yesterday, and discovered that Sirius has gone off on some sort of adventure with Pat. He left my father's portrait on the drawing room wall, and Kingsley, I think James is on the edge of madness."

"Did he tell you anything?" asked Kingsley.

"He did. He was lonely enough that he opened up to me a little and the news isn't good. It seems that Sirius is actually the creator of his best friend's magical portrait!"

"Ah… Merlin's rancid flatulence," groaned Kingsley. "And I thought this day couldn't get any worse. How on earth did Sirius Black learn the magic to make a magical portrait?"

He gestured toward a chair and sat down heavily in another.

"You know, Harry, we all thought that once Voldemort was gone, life would be easy. Maybe grown wizards shouldn't have been so naïve, but we were. But we're discovering that there's plenty of evil left to go around, not to mention good old-fashioned arrogance and blind stupidity. Did James tell you how Sirius made his portrait? Could he be out there making more of them, even as we speak?"

Kingsley Summoned a bottle from the sideboard across the room. Two crystal goblets followed and he poured a portion of smoking liquid into each one.

"Cheers, Harry," he said, raising his glass in a toast and then tossing the drink back gracefully.

Harry chuckled and took a cautious sip. It went down pleasantly so he followed up by tossing the rest back in imitation of the older wizard. The result was stunning. His throat burned agonizingly and tears flooded his eyes as he began coughing. Finally the pain eased and he looked up, his eyes still streaming.

"Smooth," he croaked. "And why are you poisoning me at half past ten in the morning, Minister?"

Kingsley chuckled. "It always used to hit me like that," he murmured reminiscently. "The second one would go down easier, but you might not be able to think after it. Sorry, but your news about Sirius was the last straw. So how did he do it?"

A flush had risen on Harry's cheek. He must have looked like a kid, choking on his firewhiskey like that. He collected his thoughts carefully before speaking.

"James told me that the Black family was part of setting the spell on Hogwarts Castle that creates the Headmaster portraits. Sirius discovered the spell book and took it when he was still a student at Hogwarts," explained Harry. "He bragged to the other Marauders about it and they all entered into a magical contract with him, so if they died before him, he could create portraits of them. They thought it was a lark."

Kingsley leaned back carefully in his handsome chair. He studied the wall of his office for a long moment.

"I wonder if Dumbledore had any idea what a bloody bunch of dim bulbs those precious boys really were," he mused. "He acted as though they were the shining hope of the Order back during the first war. I can't believe he knew Sirius was hiding these incredible dark materials and practicing this spell on his friends."

"Maybe the spells aren't dark," protested Harry, wondering where this sudden odd urge to defend Sirius came from. "And we all know the Marauders were talented at keeping secrets from Dumbledore."

"Maybe the intent was thoughtless, rather than evil, but this spell can easily be used for Dark purposes. Bet there's no point in arguing about intent, Harry. If that spell book still exists, we need to get it away from Sirius. The worst he might do is to create Lupin and Pettigrew portraits, but Pat Potter strikes me as someone who'll find a way to profit from this rare magic."

Harry shuddered, remembering the way Sirius clung so devotedly to the James look-alike. If Pat knew, Sirius could cause a lot of pain if he made more magical portraits. But Kingsley's outrage and concern seemed extreme. The wizard had picked up a quill and was making rapid notes on a clean sheet of parchment, and the crease between his brows was furrowed deep.

'What aren't you telling me, Kingsley?" he asked curiously.

"This is deepest secrecy. We've just learned that the ancient portraits were created for another reason," he replied in a low voice. "It seems there's a spell somewhere that will bring those old Dark wizards and witches back to physical life. That makes it essential that we keep Sirius from making any more of them. We also need to find that spell and keep it from anyone who might want to use it."

A knock on the door startled them both and Kingsley's pretty secretary stuck her head inside.

"Minister, the delegation from Haiti has arrived. I've put them in the reception drawing room and set out refreshments, but you mustn't keep them waiting," she murmured with a deferential smile.

Kingsley nodded. "Just one more moment," he declared, waiting until she left before he turned back to Harry.

"I have several people at work finding the spell I just told you about. I must ask you to continue monitoring the situation at Grimmauld Place. Get what you can from your father's portrait and when Sirius returns, watch him, but don't tell him what we're learning."

Harry nodded. "There's been some friction between us, as you know. May I ask Ron to help me? He seems to have a knack for making Sirius feel relaxed, although I don't know how he'll handle Pat."

The stress faded momentarily from Kingsley's face as a wicked smile lit his eyes.

"I look forward to hearing how he handles Sirius," he chuckled. "If it involves booze, I hope he has a higher tolerance than you!"

Harry rose and prepared to take his leave and Kingsley walked him to the door to the office. They shook hands warmly.

"If you have any questions or learn anything important, contact me any time of day or night," he said softly. "Preventing more of these portraits being created will keep the world safe. This is terribly important."

"May I tell Ron and Hermione?" he asked. "Ron works best if he knows what he's doing."

"We all do," quipped the Minister. "As usual, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Take care, Harry, and give my best to your talented tyke."

"I'll do that," said Harry, grinning as he strolled out of the office.

He had already sat down at his desk before he realized what Kingsley's revelation meant. It must have been Professor Snape who discovered the existence of this horrifying spell! Yet Kingsley had not mentioned him, and now Harry had stupidly missed the chance to ask about him. The bright sun seemed dimmer as he tried to think what such secrecy must mean.


	36. More Party Planning

More Party Planning

"They still aren't back, and Kingsley's putting pressure on me," said Harry. "I know it's a cynical idea, but we need a reason to get Sirius back here so we can find out about the portrait spell and get hold of that old book."

"I still think Kreacher can find it for you. He knows every inch of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," said Ginny, scowling. "I don't want Sirius and Pat coming to Janus's first birthday party."

"If you think about it, it's their first anniversary," said Ron with a wicked grin. "They met at Sirius's birthday party, remember?"

"How can anyone forget?" asked Hermione. "That party was the biggest disaster in the history of parties!"

The four were sitting comfortably in the Potter drawing room after dinner. Evening sun shone radiantly in through the windows, bathing them in the golden rays of a sunset sky. The baby was in bed for the night and it was a rare, peaceful time to discuss the portrait dilemma together.

Ron giggled. "But the sight of Professor Trelawney groping Sirius… I'll never forget the way his eyes bulged and that hunted look on his face. Priceless!"

"I wish I hadn't been in labor," said Ginny. "I wasn't able to really appreciate the splendor of it. Kreacher outdid himself, didn't he?"

"The Malfoys were quite funny too," said Hermione reluctantly. "Everyone was acting loony after drinking the punch, but after the crazed witches were stunned, Lucius and Narcissa strolled through the room like royalty, nudging unconscious witches out of the way like they were wading through manure. Draco actually looked a bit embarrassed."

"I don't see any useful alternative to inviting them to Janus's birthday party," said Harry. "You know Kreacher's looked for it, and he's miserable because he failed to help me. Please, Gin. We'll have a real party the next day, if this one turns into a disaster."

There was a brief pause and Ginny's brown eyes began to sparkle with laughter.

"You heard it here," she pronounced. "Two parties in two days for our brilliant boy, because there's no way a party with Sirius Black attending can be anything but disastrous!"

"We could hide the booze," suggested Ron with a helpful smile.

"But I think getting him plastered is the best way to make him talk," argued Ginny, finally getting into the spirit of the mission. "You'll match him drink for drink, brother dear, and just before he passes out, slip him some Veritaserum."

"Why can't _Harry_ drink him into submission?" asked Hermione, frowning. "Ronald is not adorable when he's drunk."

"Harry is, but he'd be snuggled in the corner of the sofa, sleeping like a baby if he tried to match Sirius in anything more than a butterbeer contest," said Ginny complacently. "Of course, now that I'm not breastfeeding any longer, maybe _I_ should do it!"

"NO!" screamed all three of her listeners in unison.

She glared reproachfully at them, and then reluctantly smiled. "We could have Dad do it, I suppose. After all those years working at the ministry, he can stay on his feet after quaffing a barrel of the hard stuff. We don't even have to tell him it's a plan, just lead him to Sirius and put glasses in their hands. They'll be singing sea chanteys together in half an hour."

"Mum will kill us," said Ron brightly.

"Better her than me, dealing with an inebriated husband," replied Hermione. "She's used to it after all these years."

"You're forgetting that Sirius has a minder now. Cousin Pat keeps a close eye on everything concerning Sirius, and won't let us get him drunk," said Harry reluctantly. "And I wonder if Sirius has already spilled the beans about his portrait making abilities and the spell book."

"I forget, are we supposed to know Pat's a guy, or is the witch thing still what we go by?" asked Hermione. "Because if Pat shows up as a girlfriend, we can all go to the kitchen and talk about fashions. Flatter her and ask where she gets her gorgeous outfits and stuff. Even ask if there are wedding bells in their future!"

Harry shuddered. He found his new wizarding cousin even more repulsive than Dudley, something he'd never imagined possible.

"What's worse, getting cozy with Pat or plotting to get Sirius stinking drunk?" he asked.

"It'll be an adventure. I just wish Professor Snape could be here to enjoy it with us," said Ginny with a fond smile. "Remember how much he enjoyed watching you suffer from a hangover after Sirius got you trashed that time?"

Ron and Hermione stared at her.

"Um, Ginny, have you noticed how much you talk about Snape?" asked Ron. "It's like he became your new best friend or your dad or something, and you already have a dad. You got a little obsessed while he was around, didn't you?"

"Shut it, Ron," she snapped. "You don't know! And I miss him like mad. Harry does too. It's not fair that he has to keep slaving away for the good of bloody wizardkind after he's _dead_! He should be back at Hogwarts and be able to come visit us when he wants to. As far as I'm concerned, he's family."

Harry's eye was drawn to the empty portrait frame while the others bickered pleasantly. Ginny wasn't the only one who missed Professor Snape, she was right about that. During the time Professor Snape had been with them, it had begun to feel like they really were a family or something. It eased some of his painful regret that he had never known the wizard when he was alive. So many wasted years…

"Harry? Are you there?" asked Ron, waving a hand before his eyes. "So if we're all agreed, we'll plan a party for the wonder child's birthday and you can send the invitation to Sirius and Pat."

"What about the family? Are we inviting Kingsley?" asked Hermione.

"Everybody," said Ginny firmly. "Except _not_ Professor Trelawney, and Kreacher won't be making punch this time. We need some chaos to distract Pat from what we're doing with Sirius, but not that much chaos."

"I wonder if Sirius will bring the portrait of Harry's dad along. Do we invite James's portrait?" asked Ron.

"I don't think we should mention the portrait and we shouldn't pay attention to it," said Harry. "Even if Sirius wears it on that chain, Pat will be watching all of us."

Ginny grinned mischievously at her husband.

"But if Pat watches us talk with James, she can't be watching Sirius, right? I say someone, maybe Kingsley, should see if he could learn anything from James."

"Okay. I guess I over-think this stuff. We'll invite Sirius and see what happens," Harry said resignedly. "How bad can it be?"

* * *

A portrait existence is a bloody nuisance, thought the supposed Janus Nigellus with an irritated scowl. The others rarely subsided into a comfortable silence. The lunatics muttered and sobbed at times, or giggled pitifully over nothing. Maximus Black watched the others constantly, as though concerned for his personal safety. And now this cursed repulsive witch's portrait was his personal project, as the Dark Lord had been during his life. It must be karma…

"Janus, my dear wizard," she simpered with a sickening smile. "I wonder if the wizards who placed us here would be willing to hang our portraits next to each other. There are things I should like to discuss with you, but privately."

"You have _nothing_ to discuss privately with young Nigellus!" snapped Maximus. "Whatever you think you know, keep it to yourself, you miserable harlot."

Madam Dolohov nodded her head condescendingly in his direction. "Perhaps even your portrait has lost all usefulness, old man. Over the centuries you seem to have lost your grip on reality. The next time those living wizards attempt to speak with me, I'll suggest that they isolate you from the rest of us, since your effect is quite blighting."

The ancient wizard's visage turned brilliant red and he spluttered, "Keep to your place, disgusting wench! If you cannot yet recognize your betters, a time may come that you'll be forced to learn at the point of my wand!"

Her gentle smile was chilling. She nodded briefly and then deliberately turned toward her real prey.

"My dear Janus Nigellus, our time will come," she cooed with an intimate smile. "Perhaps old Maximus forgot what it is to be young and virile, but I believe _you_ have not forgotten. We shall have much to offer each other, do we not?"

Grateful that his portrait state rendered him immune to the physical nausea he would have felt in life, Severus Snape smiled faintly and nodded his head in what might pass for acquiescence. He would as soon have flirted with an acromantula in real life, but fortunately he was now a mere portrait. In life he had no doubt that the elegant Natasha had been insatiable in her appetites and the idea of playing her game in real life was indeed revolting.

"Janus Nigellus! You owe me a kinsman's duty and therefore I forbid you to consort with that vile witch. She would destroy the honor of our House and the glorious destiny that will come to us!" shrieked Maximus, looking quite unhinged with fury.

The door at the far end of the room opened slowly, flooding the dimly lit portrait gallery with bright sunshine. Maximus fell silent, as did all the other portrait subjects. Two wizards entered slowly and strolled slowly down the length of the room, their footsteps echoing loudly. They paused to study a long piece of parchment.

"My dear wizards, have you come for me?" asked Natasha in a warm friendly voice. "I believe we have much that we should discuss together."

Professor Snape watched with interest as the blatant harpy dissolved into a sweet seductress. The Unspeakables looked at each other in surprise and went to stand before her portrait.

"Are you willing to speak to us now, Madam?" asked a tall, thin man. "We'll return for you shortly, if that is the case."

The pair hustled quickly out of the gallery and the door closed with a loud thud behind them. All the portraits had watched their hasty departure with interest, and then turned to look at the witch who seemed to be plotting something devious.

"I grow weary of hanging here in this empty cell," she murmured innocently. "Perhaps I shall be moved to a place more public and respectable."

A low murmur of conversation swelled and faded from all areas of the room at once. No one wished to challenge the witch's assertion. They might understand her and avoid playing her game, but the living had no idea what might be at stake if they dealt with her. Silence reigned for some time, and even the most pathetic dared not make a sound for fear of her noticing. She threatened to break their secrecy. The consequences in that case might mean disaster for all.

* * *

It seemed an eternity to Professor Snape before the Aurors came for him. In the time since Madam Dolohov's portrait had been removed and returned, she had not spoken of what happened outside their chamber. Then one by one, others had been removed and returned, yet all kept silence. Maximus Black had not been chosen, and with every removal his face became contorted with rage. The sight of "Janus Nigellus" being carried away caused him to glare viciously.

Kingsley Shacklebolt waited in a sunny chamber where Professor Snape's portrait was hung upon the wall.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly. "What a remarkable time we've had with your portrait companions. Madam Dolohov's presence seems to have unsettled all of them."

"I assume you brought the others out to disguise your interest in me," said Professor Snape. "Did you learn anything from them?"

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, smiling reminiscently.

"I told them that the Ministry is considering opening a gallery where they'll be displayed for the wizarding public. It will be a historical exhibition and very well publicized. I asked their opinion of the idea. Madam Dolohov was delighted, for some reason. The others seemed intrigued, but a bit nervous."

"Did she speak of herself? Where did she come from? She must have an unspeakably vile past. What have you learned about her?" asked Snape. "I assume you won't really subject the public to these portraits. Their influence on the weak minded could be disastrous."

"We could never allow these portraits to be known publicly," said Kingsley. "I wondered how they would react though. Magical portraits have no wish to interact with the living, under normal circumstances."

"Even Hogwarts portraits, as time passes and the living that they knew pass on, will offer advice but no longer care much about the living," mused Professor Snape. "This collection is unnerving."

"Yet you seemed to find it pleasant to be in the Potter home," said Kingsley lazily, but his dark eyes were intent.

"I have not yet been dead long enough to grow completely disconnected with the living world. Potter also needed assistance that I could provide in dealing with that annoying idiot," countered Snape coolly, irritated by the man's intrusive questioning.

"Ah yes, speaking of that annoying idiot, we've discovered who made the portrait of James Potter. It was Sirius, in fact."

Professor Snape's eyes widened in a rare show of surprise, but he replied quite calmly, "His family tendency to insanity sometimes blinded me to the fact that he is a powerful wizard. But where did he learn such spells?"

Kingsley chuckled. "We're still looking for confirmation, but it seems Black family ancestors helped charm the castle to create portraits upon the death of a Headmaster. Sirius seems to have found the spell books somewhere in the ancestral treasure trove and while he was still at Hogwarts, cast similar spells on his three friends so if they died he could make portraits of them."

The bloody morons, thought Snape, a residue of the old bitterness filling his mind briefly. Bad as James Potter's portrait existence was, it seemed if Black had a mind to, the idiot could bring back the others to torment his portrait existence on into eternity. If there were such a spell, to reanimate portraits back to life, perhaps he could live for an hour, enough to duel Sirius Black into a quivering mass of stupidity! At times, karma seemed inadequate.


End file.
